Between Light and Darkness
by Mystic Lady Fae
Summary: Amara is just a normal librarian, until Bruce Wayne invites her to his fundraising party. And when the Joker breaks out of prison, things get interesting for everyone. post-TDK, Bruce/OC, sort of Joker/OC. M for violence
1. When a Playboy Meets a Librarian

Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own anything related to the _**Batman**_ franchise. They belong to their original creator, and the actors belong to themselves.

AN: Okay, I know that this is totally outside my usual realm of Johnny Depp characters and _**Phantom of the Opera**_, but I've decided to branch out and try writing about a different masked hottie, and this is it. Besides, who agrees that Christian Bale and Heath Ledger (may he rest in peace) are totally amazing in _**The Dark Knight**_? Anyway, please be kind and review! I'd love to know what people think about this story. Thanks!

**Chapter 1: When a Billionaire Meets a Librarian**:

Amara looked up from her desk and tried hard not to laugh. There was the book cart, rattling with new texts, CDs and movies, while the poor tiny blonde pushing it puffed and turned red with the effort.

"Oh, come on, Julie, the thing isn't even half full!" Amara laughed, coming out from behind the enclosed, circular main desk of the library. "You really need to get in shape."

Green eyes glared at her. "I _am_ in shape!" wheezed the petite woman as she came to a stop. "Just not the shape I wish I was in!"

Snickering, Amara took charge of the cart as Julie followed her into the back room, both women working quickly to unload the new materials so they could catalogue them. People hated waiting forever for a new release to become available, and the moment they arrived, it was Amara's job to get things out ASAP.

"So, how goes the adjusting?" Julie asked while laminating the dust jackets for the hard-cover books. "Getting used to the noises of the city yet?"

A recent hire of the library, Amara was a small-town girl new to Gotham City. An old friend of her mother's, Mrs. Rockwell, was on the library's board of trustees, and had offered the position when she learned that Amara wanted to move to a big city.

So here she was, across the country from where she grew up and in a huge city that was always noisy, no matter what the hour. Six months after moving here, Amara still wasn't used to the sounds of sirens, traffic, and people yelling in the streets at three in the morning. Obviously, it made for some rough sleeping.

Amara shrugged and printed out the barcode for the inside of the cover. "It's alright. I've decided to give up sleeping with the windows open and just get one of those air conditioner towers instead. That'll cut down on the noise, and give me a cool, comfortable place to sleep!"

Julie raised an eyebrow. "Can you afford to do that?" she asked. "I mean, considering where you live, isn't that a bit hard on your paycheck?"

The apartment Amara rented was in the better part of the city, meaning it was not only expensive, but also well out of a librarian's pay. Thankfully, one of the perks of working for this particular library meant getting half of her rent paid for, thanks to the generous donations made by Wayne Enterprises, who were heavy investors in this place.

'_Thank goodness for that, otherwise I'd be stuck eating Cup-O-Noodles for every meal_,' Amara thought with a shiver. '_Still, if I had to choose, I'd rather live in a safe neighborhood and eat meals from a can then live in a shabbier district and end up robbed, or worse, dead_.'

Shaking her head, Amara gave her a reassuring pat on the arm. "It's fine. My dad sent me some money and told me to get something cool," she said truthfully. "I thought I do what he said, literally."

Both women giggled at the use of two puns. "Man, we really are nerdy librarians," Julie said with a snicker. "Well, as long as you're sure and comfortable, that's all that matters, right?"

'_And the city is a bit safer, now that the mob is in pieces and that Joker guy is locked up_,' Amara thought, finishing what she knew Julie was about to say.

Those two reasons had almost caused her to give up the idea of moving to Gotham, but thanks to police and the mysterious figure known as Batman, Amara had begun to think that maybe Gotham wasn't so bad. With the mob broken up and the psychopath known as the Joker locked up in Arkham Asylum, Gotham was safer than it had been in decades.

Still, that didn't stop her from carrying a can of mace in her purse, especially since Batman had disappeared.

"Okay, lamination is done!" Julie chirped happily. "Can I print out the barcodes? Please?"

Amara rolled her eyes. In the short time she'd been here and made friends with Julie, she'd learned that her friend loved stickers and anything that even resembled one. If it had a sticky back, Julie wanted to play with it; this included attaching the library codes to the books, and it was Julie's favorite thing to do here.

"Fine," she sighed, "you do the barcodes, and I'll go back to the desk."

Pity the desk was so dull at this time of the morning. Kids were still in school, so there were no hushed, excited voices as young readers searched to find their next great adventure book. The older ones would eventually take over the music section, swapping ideas over which band, singing group, or pop star was the best, right before they started checking out CDs to download for their MP3 players. The adults, meanwhile, would sit at a quiet table, drink their coffee, and pour over a favorite book, a new release, or the newspaper, savoring the peace that only a library could offer in this day and age.

Amara loved it, and the musty smell of paper, ink, and dust made her job the best there was. Well, in her opinion, anyway.

Right now, though, the only sounds to be heard was that of the air conditioning warring with the heater, and of her fingers clicking away on her keyboard. Her job was to find out when and if the newest bestsellers were available, buy them, and make sure they arrived in record time. The rest of the duties belonged to the two head librarians upstairs, comfy in their fancy corner offices.

'_Not that I care_,' Amara thought with a shake of her head. '_I wouldn't want to be the one who plans and attends all of the balls, parties, and fundraisers that keeps this place running. Those people are welcome to it_!'

Above her, someone cleared their throat, startling her in her seat. Looking up, Amara saw it was a man, a very successful businessman, if she judged correctly. His dark blue suit looked like it had been made for him, and went very well with his dark hair and hazel eyes. Since he was leaning rather heavily on the top of the high counter, she guessed him to be six feet tall, maybe even a bit more. Quite a bit taller than her barely five foot, three inch frame.

"How can I help you?" she asked, putting on her most welcoming smile.

At the sight of the flirtatious one he gave back, her own nearly faded. '_Oh, brother, a flirty business man, wonderful_,' Amara thought, stubbornly keeping her smile. '_He's probably looking at me and wondering how much fun it would be to pretend an interest in the local librarian_.'

She could almost see herself in his eyes: long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, brown eyes peeking out from behind her almond-shaped reading glasses, and the white blouse paired with a black skirt and sensible black ballet flats on her feet. No weird tweed suits for her, thank you. What she wore wasn't the stereotypical look of a librarian, it was pretty darn close.

"Hello, beautiful," the man said, his voice smooth and rich. It also had a slight heaviness to it that she didn't expect, but it made him nice to listen to.

'_What do you want to bet that all his girlfriends ever do is listen to him talk_?' Amara tried not to laugh at the thought. '_He probably goes on about nothing whatsoever, and his dates sit there, listening to his great voice and stare at him, probably counting themselves lucky that they have this guy as their boyfriend_.'

Still smiling, the man leaned forward onto the desk. "So, can you help find a specific book? I'm not sure if it's out yet, though, and would appreciate the help." He gave her an even wider smile, and she felt her heart leap.

Okay, he was good-looking, Amara had to admit, and that voice didn't help much, but she was determined not to fall for any of his flirty tricks. Even if he didn't know he was doing anything flirtatious, she was going to keep her cool and not let him get to her.

"Sure, I can do that," she replied, keeping her voice soft as she turned towards her computer screen. "What's the title?"

He told her, and she found him his book in less than a minute. After writing down the number and walking him to the general area of shelves, Amara went back to work, praying that she wouldn't have to deal with him again. Thanks to modern technology, he could check out his book without her help.

"Would you mind?" that rich, smooth voice said a few minutes later from above her.

She looked up. The man was back, book and library card in hand. Oh, goody. "Sure," she said, grudgingly taking the card and text to scan them. A minute later, the little printer produced the receipt listing day the book was due back, and she gave all three things to him. "You've three weeks before you need to return it."

"Thank you." He tucked the card into a wallet (black leather with his initials engraved in silver on it, she noted), and the book with the receipt in it went under his arm. The man then leaned forward, suddenly going silent. It made her uneasy.

Amara peeked up over the tops of her glasses, a trick that usually quieted noisy children or made local troublemakers change their minds about pulling a prank or two on the patrons. It was also something a stereotypical librarian did, but it was effective, and she liked doing it.

"Yes?" she said, giving him a questioning look. "Anything else?"

Once again, he gave her that dashing smile. "Well, there is one other thing." He looked around as though to be sure they were alone before turning back to face her. "Would you like to go out for a few drinks?"

The only word to express her feelings at that point was 'stunned.'

* * *

To be honest, he hadn't counted on asking the girl out. All he had wanted to do was see if the rumors about he new desk librarian were true, and was happy that she'd lived up to her reputation among the patrons.

Most people would think that, as the owner and CEO of a hugely successful company, Bruce Wayne did nothing for himself. True, most of the work was done by those working for him, but he did his best to sit in on board meetings, attend all important functions to get to know some of his workers better, and he made sure that a good portion of his wealth was distributed to local charities, schools, and libraries.

Sometimes, however, Bruce was a bit underhanded as he tried to see if his money was being put to good use. This was usually done by seeing if those who worked for his company –or for those he donated to – were putting a decent effort into their job. This library was where one of his larger yearly donations went, and he wanted to make sure that this new librarian was going to be one of the good things done with his money.

Sadly, this was a lesson hard-learned. Quite a few of the charities Bruce had given to in the past had been drained of funds by the mob. Somehow those bastards had gotten their own people into positions of power within those foundations, or gotten workers there under their thumbs. Those leeches had then proceeded to drain the charity's profits dry to feed the unending greed of the mob, and because of that, many who desperately needed help had been left to suffer.

Bruce had been furious when he'd found out that money meant for good was instead going to fund the wicked. In an effort to not only help the less fortunate, but to also save the image of his company, Bruce had hired several loyal employees of Wayne Enterprises to go in and test the charities and foundations he'd given money to, just to see who he needed to pull support from. It was hard to think of the people he would be hurting, but the money wasn't even used for good anyway, so that made it a bit easier, but only just a little.

Eventually, Bruce ordered new charities formed under Wayne Enterprises so that he could see where his finances went to, and so far, it had worked. This library was one of them. It was located in a middle part of town, somewhat close to the rough neighborhoods so that the unfortunate children and adults had a safe place to read and relax. It was also close to the middle-class apartments, though the rich kids did most of their reading at the larger state or city-run libraries.

An avid reader and supporter of the arts, Bruce had taken a keen interest in this particular library, and often made surprise visits to 'test' the staff whenever they hired new employees. The latest hire was a woman name Amara Thomas, and she'd gotten her position through a connection on the board of trustees, which Bruce sat in whenever he had free time (which was rare).

He trusted the board, though, because they were all close friends or retired employees loyal to Wayne Enterprises, and knew their decisions would be sound. Any major changes, however, such as brand new employees or large projects, required Bruce's approval. He'd become a bit suspicious when one of the female members, Mrs. Rockwell, suggested Miss Thomas, declaring her to be a good person who was fond of children and books. Word of mouth was one thing, but the actual person was another. Bruce had promised to think about it.

Pulling a few strings, he managed to quickly obtain a file on Miss Amara Thomas. Sure enough, Mrs. Rockwell had seemed right about the young woman. Miss Thomas appeared to be smart, since she'd graduated from college with good grades, and she had no serious debts or a criminal record. She didn't even have a parking ticket.

With no reason _not_ to hire her, Bruce approved her employment at the library, though he still felt a bit off about it. So in an effort to clear his mind, he'd decided to come and see what kind of person she was, and he rather liked what he'd seen so far.

Well-dressed in a conservative white blouse, black skirt, and black shoes, the outfit spoke of her dedication to looking professional to those who came to the library and its main desk. So did the brown hair pulled back into a sensible ponytail, and the glasses perched on her nose were an interesting shape, emphasizing almond-shaped brown eyes that clearly came from an Asian family member.

Rather than appearing severe or unapproachable, though, the softness of her face and the ready smile on her lips made her friendly and open, welcoming visitors before she'd even said a word.

Yes, Amara Thomas was a very good choice for a librarian, and Bruce liked her immediately. She'd been very helpful, even going so far as to take him directly to his book, and checked it out for him when he pretended not to be able to use the self-service machines.

What Bruce liked best about her, though, was the way she looked at him over the rims of her glasses. It was the sort of look a teacher or elderly librarian gave a naughty child, and he found it so amusing that he almost laughed. Spunky; he liked that.

The next thing he knew, the offer for a date slipped past his lips, which he found surprising. His mouth never ran away like that, and it was the strangest feeling to have lost control of his actions. On the other hand, if she accepted his offer for a drink, it would probably be worth it; Bruce had a feeling she would provide some interesting conversation.

Right now, though, she was stuttering her way through her reply. "Uh, well, I really don't think-"

"Oh, my gosh, you're Bruce Wayne!" gasped a voice.

Amara's jaw dropped, and so did Bruce's stomach.

* * *

"_You're_ Bruce Wayne?" she squeaked. Inside her head, Amara was thinking, '_I was just asked out by a multi-billionaire_?'

Even though she'd never seen him, Amara knew all about the man who donated a great deal of money to both local and global organizations meant to help the less fortunate. Mrs. Rockwell, her mother's old friend, had informed her that the library she now worked at was heavily funded by Wayne Enterprises, and that Bruce Wayne himself sat upon the board of trustees, if only rarely.

"But I should warn you, dear, that Mr. Wayne is…well, to put it kindly, he's very fond of women," Mrs. Rockwell had said over the phone, when she'd called to offer the job and was accepted. "He is very popular with the ladies, as you can imagine, as rich and as handsome as he is, so if you see him, try not to fall over yourself."

Amara had promised that she wouldn't, and not given the matter another thought since then. After all, what were the chances of her ever running into Bruce Wayne, anyway?

Well, she'd been proved wrong, and now here she was, face-to-face with him, and he'd just asked her out for drinks. Honestly, she'd been close to accepting, but then Julie had come in and opened her eyes to who she was speaking with. Why, oh why hadn't she asked the guy's name, or even checked to see what name was on his library card?

By now, Julie had approached the front desk, green eyes wide with amazement. "Wow, I never thought I'd meet a billionaire," she breathed. "I'm Julie Hanson, and I volunteer here."

Mr. Wayne gave her a smile. "Nice to meet you." He turned towards Amara. "And you, Miss Thomas."

About to ask how he knew her name, Amara blushed when he tapped her name plate. Duh. "Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Wayne," she said, looking down shyly. Inside, she was kicking herself for not being more open, but then, what did you way to a hot billionaire?

"So, about those drinks," he said.

She blinked at him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne, but I'm afraid that won't be possible." He looked confused, and Amara continued on, saying, "It's unethical for me to go out with the chief benefactor of the library."

Out of the corner of her eye, Amara saw Julie's shocked expression, but ignored her. Instead, she focused on the surprised and slightly puzzled look on Mr. Wayne's face, wondering what was going on behind those hazel eyes of his.

* * *

It had been quite some time since Bruce had been shot down for a date; so long, in fact, that he'd forgotten how much it hurt when it happened. Normally he would have moved on to the next young woman, but Amara Thomas had more interesting thoughts going on behind those glasses, of that he was sure, and no doubt had more intelligence in one little finger than some of his previous dates had in their whole brain.

Okay, he'd been shot down for a date. However, Bruce had another ace up his sleeve.

"Alright, fair enough," he said, holding his hands up a little. "But I hope you plan to attend the fundraiser I'm having Saturday night."

Bruce saw her ready to protest and quickly stopped her with a smile. "It's for supporting the arts, like dance, music, and literature. Therefore, some of the money will come here to the library to help add a new computer room for the children to use. It's only fitting for those who work here to attend."

Amara still looked a bit skeptical, so he decided to press on with a bit of bribery. "I can promise lots of good food, music, and champagne. Plus, you might make a few friends while you're there."

He waited for her reply.

* * *

As much as it pained her to say it, Amara did think that the party sounded like a good idea, if only for the free food and drinks. What sane person turned down a classy event like that, especially if there were going to be fine food and champagne flowing hours?

"Well," she said while nibbling her lip, "alright. It does sound like fun."

"Excellent," Mr. Wayne said, clapping his hands together. "Saturday at eight o'clock. I'll send an invitation to your house so that you can get in. Wear an evening dress, and be sure to rest up; I think this one will last a while."

With a friendly wink in her direction, he turned and walked way, leaving a rather speechless Amara behind him.

In comparison, Julie was beyond excited. "Oh, my gosh, you're going to a party being held by Bruce Wayne!" she quietly squealed. "Do you know how many women would give their arm for that?"

"Well, I certainly hope nobody expects me to give an arm for this one," Amara teased. "I need both of mine to do my job."

Julie gave an exasperated huff. "Oh, come _on_, Amara," she said, clearly annoyed with her friend. "You've just been asked out by Bruce Wayne, turned him down, and _then_ got invited to his party on Saturday! How are you unable to get excited about this?"

Amara merely shrugged. "He's just a bored billionaire with nothing more to do than flirt and invite people to parties," she replied. "Hey, do you want to go to the party with me? I could use some support while I'm there, and the last thing I want to do is go alone."

Julie looked ready to faint. "Seriously? You want me to go with you?" Amara nodded. "Oh, I am so there!"

She looked Amara up and down. "Now the main question is this: _what_ are you going to _wear_?"

* * *

AN: Whew, long chapter! I hope that everyone enjoyed it and will review. If not, I'll take it that people don't like this and will take it down, considering I'm new to this whole Batman thing. Please let me know your thoughts. Thanks!


	2. Party Crashers

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing related to _**Batman**_ and that universe. Only original characters are mine.

AN: Here's chapter two, with the return of The Joker! Lots of fun to be had, and I hope that everyone enjoys themselves while reading. Please don't forget to review! Thanks!

**Chapter 2: Party Crashers**:

Pacing around his new hideout, the Joker twirled a knife around in one hand while the other fiddled with a playing card, one that sported his name and trademark grin. Normally he was the sort that didn't have a plan, but sometimes, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Take prison, for instance. People who said that it was impossible to break out of Arkham Asylum for the Insane had obviously not done their homework.

But The Joker had.

After spending quite a bit of money to pay off a few impoverished or greedy doctors, psychiatrists, and prison guards, not to mention his own crew, the impossible had become the opposite.

Carefully avoiding the search lights, the watchful guards, and those who foolishly believed in the justice system, The Joker had managed to flee through the underground sewage system and into a waiting motor boat, where a few of his goons sat waiting. Although it was a rather tacky escape for a higher class of criminal like himself, it got the job done, and quickly.

"When it comes down to it, effectiveness is the key," he said to himself as the boat sped away from the rocky island, on which sat his former prison.

His new hideout was actually an old warehouse on the docks, providing an easy escape route in case they were ever cornered by the cops. Hopefully most of his men could swim, otherwise they were screwed when it came to running from the law.

The Joker cackled at the thought of his men floundering around in the water, waiting for the cops to rescue them. It was a fun thought.

On arrival, a thorough look around the place made him nod in approval, but just barely. The whole place was grimy, but then, he'd never been one for tidiness, except when it came to his wardrobe. There were cots for the men in what must have once been a large office space. Surprisingly, there were also a few leftover pieces of computer equipment, dumped and forgotten by their former owners. One of the men looked to have hooked everything up, mixing it with a batch of stolen televisions, modems, and other goods, making it so they could keep tabs on what was happening in the city. That would come in handy.

One of the other larger rooms in the back of the building belonged to him; as the head of the operation, The Joker got the best of everything, or else. A large bed covered in fine purple and dark green sheets was set up against the center of the left wall; there was also a mini-fridge right next to it, hopefully loaded with something decent to eat, since the crap they served at Arkham wasn't fit to feed rabid dogs. A small nightstand was set up as well, with a silver lamp. It also had a drawer, a handy place for him to store his knife collection.

The right side of the room had a sink in the corner furthest from the door, and directly across from the bed was a large, plasma television mounted on the wall. Set beneath the television was a wardrobe, the interior filled with clothes in his signature colors, purple and green, with the occasional black or dark grey shirt. There were even black leather gloves in the drawer at the bottom.

"Hmm, someone is gonna get a raise today," The Joker muttered under his breath as he looked through everything.

Once he was changed out of his orange Arkham clothes and comfortable in his new ones, he and his 'help' went to another room, this one obviously once the fancy board room where the executives had met. The huge wooden table was still there, although the chairs were obviously not part of the original décor; most were cheap imitation leather, but the one at the head of the table wasn't.

At the head was a fine leather chair, and it was there that The Joker took his seat, the men quickly claiming the lesser ones. When he was sure he had their attention, he grinned.

"Well, gents, it's time we got some cash into our pockets," he said, looking around at the gruff, scarred, and unshaven faces. "Now, what's going on in the city lately? Give me some ideas."

One of the pieces of news tossed onto the table was a fundraiser for the arts. Normally, that wasn't The Joker's sort of thing; they never made much money in the first place, and were usually small. Very boring stuff indeed.

"It's being held by Bruce Wayne, that billionaire playboy," one of the men said. "Lots of rich folks eating fancy food and doing nothing. No doubt the ladies will be wearing lots of pretty sparkling necklaces, and there's sure to be lots of cash passing back and forth."

"Hmm…" The Joker stroked his chin, careful not to smudge his makeup. Luckily there had been a steady supply of it smuggled to him in Arkham, and a few containers were currently in his wardrobe drawers.

After considering the matter, The Joker found that he really liked this idea. It'd been a while since he had made a stir in town, and what better way to announce his return to Gotham than crashing a rich-boy's party?

"When and where is this shindig being held?" he asked with a frightening grin.

* * *

"I really don't think this was a good idea," Amara whispered, heading up the front steps of a glossy black building. Apparently the fundraiser was being held in a huge penthouse atop one of the most expensive apartment buildings in town, and Julie was ecstatic about seeing it.

Beside her, her friend rolled her eyes, but reached out and gave Amara's hand a quick squeeze of encouragement. "It'll be fine," Julie whispered back. "I'm here with you, and, if I may say so, you look absolutely fantastic tonight."

Amara blushed. Julie had talked her into wearing a rather revealing dress, one that had been bought for her before she'd left the west coast for Gotham. Amara's best friend had insisted on getting her something 'classy' before she left, claiming she might need it in the big city. That 'something' had been her outfit for tonight.

It was a soft silk gown cut in a Greek goddess style, except it's color was red instead of the classic white. The shoulder straps had gold clips that rested just behind the shoulder, and from those clips dangled filmy red lengths of fabric, adding a touch of grace and elegance to the dress. It dipped a bit low in front and back for Amara's taste, but since it fit in all the right places, she didn't mind.

Looking down, Amara couldn't help but smile. The dress flared out slightly in the skirt, the light material seeming to float as she moved. With her brown hair pulled back into a braided bun, a touch of makeup on her face, plus a pair of sexy red sandals on her feet, maybe Julie was right: she did look good tonight.

Not that Julie didn't, of course. The petite woman wore a dress the same shade as her green eyes, and it set off her loose blonde hair perfectly. A small bag dangled from her wrist, which held the invitation that Mr. Wayne had sent to Amara's apartment.

"Okay, let's do this," Amara muttered as they arrived at the elevator.

A security guy look at the invitation, nodded, and smiled as he let them into the elevator. "Have a good time, ladies," he said, just before the door closed.

Once the two of them were alone, Julie turned and gave her friend a broad grin. "You know, I hear that this penthouse actually belongs to Bruce Wayne," she mischievously said.

Amara felt her jaw drop, then quickly pulled it back up. '_Of course it's being held in Bruce Wayne's penthouse_,' she thought to herself. '_I mean, why wouldn't he hold his own fundraiser at his huge home in the city_?

Slowly, the elevator moved to a stop, and the doors opened. Inside, swarms of partygoers talked, danced, ate, or sipped champagne. Women were draped or wrapped tightly in evening dresses, their necks decorated with jewels or simple pendants made from single large stones. The men looked perfectly uniform in their tuxes or black suits.

To Amara's dismay, all of the women wore black, white, silver, or really dark colors; she was the only one in bright red. Feeling self-conscientious, Amara began to tremble.

"You look great," Julie whispered. "Come on, I want to check out the food they've got."

Linking arms, the two friends headed for the elegant tables set up in the center of the room. There were waiters offering food as well, but the ones already spread out looked far more appealing, not to mention that some were still steaming hot.

Amara looked at the food, impressed in spite of herself. The hot food included crab cakes, various tiny quiches, and steak strip kabobs all in hot trays. The cold food, such as crackers spread with smoked salmon sprinkled with dill, and shrimp cocktail were on silver trays right next to the ones holding beautifully arranged slices of fruits, both local and exotic.

"I wonder if the pineapple is from Hawaii," Julie jokingly whispered to her.

"With the money he's hoping to raise, I'd bet on it," Amara softly replied.

They both proceeded to help themselves to a bit of everything, and when they were finished, a servant came and took the dirty plates. By then, Amara was parched, and just as she started looking for a drink table or (hopefully) a bar, there stood an older gentleman about the age of her grandfather, a silver tray in his hands with cut crystal glasses holding champagne on top of it.

"Something to drink, miss?" he asked in a cockney British accent.

Having a soft spot for people with accents, Amara gave him a smile. The one he returned to her was open and friendly, and she liked him immediately.

"Thank you," she said, accepting a glass.

He gave her a soft, kind smile. "Your first fundraiser?"

She nodded. "Yes, it is, um…"

"Alfred, miss," he said.

"I'm Amara," she introduced herself. "I'd shake your hand, but you've got both of yours full."

Alfred chuckled and freed one to take hers. "Pleasure to meet you, Amara. Now, don't look so tense, my dear, I'm sure you'll have fun. Once the drinks start flowing, people usually become a bit less stiff. Maybe you'll even make a few new friends."

He gave her an encouraging wink and walked away, leaving behind a slightly more confident young woman.

* * *

Gliding through his guests, Bruce kept a close eye on Amara. He knew she was uncomfortable from the way she nervously glanced about, her hands trying to keep busy by tasting the food or accepting a drink from the waiters. He'd asked Alfred to approach her and try to calm her down, which seemed to work; whatever his loyal butler, who was almost a father to him, said to her, it gave Amara a touch of confidence and courage.

'_I really need to give him a thank-you present_,' Bruce thought with a smile.

He was surprised that she'd even come, but considering how stubborn her friend was, he shouldn't have been surprised.

What _had_ surprised him, however, was her choice of dress. The slightly revealing gown in a bold red was not what you expected a timid librarian to wear, but it suited her. The creamy olive of her skin, combined with the darkness of her hair and eyes, made red the perfect color for her, and the cut of the gown screamed class and good taste. The only word that came to Bruce's mind when he saw her was 'wow.'

Now she was chatting with her friend, Julie, if he remembered correctly, and both were giggling at something one or the other had said. The glasses in their hands were mostly empty, but that was quickly tended to by one of the waiters going around with bottle of chilled champagne in their hands.

Straightening his tux, Bruce carefully wound his way through the crowd and approached the two women. "Good evening, ladies."

Amara started and gasped. "Oh, uh, Mr. Wayne!" she said, suddenly turning nervous.

Julie was a bit bolder. "Great party," she remarked while sipping her drink.

"Thank you," he replied, bowing his head slightly. "Miss Thomas, if you don't mind, I find myself in need of a dance partner. Would you mind?"

* * *

'_Oh, no, please tell me this is not happening_,' Amara thought, panicking slightly.

She was embarrassed enough for the night, thanks to her wearing a dress that screamed for attention, which she hated more than anything. Why did Bruce Wayne have to ask her to dance, anyway? Why not someone else?

Quickly thinking of an excuse, she put on a smile. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a dancer, Mr. Wayne," she said. "Um, if you don't mind my asking, where is your restroom?"

He gave her a surprised look, but directed her to the far side of the building and how many doors down the hall it was. Thanking him quickly, Amara turned and headed in that direction.

Passing through an open door, she immediately shut it tightly behind her. Once in the peace and quiet, she took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart. Tonight was proving to be way too much for her.

At the sound of the door opening, Amara turned, and was relieved to see it was Julie who had followed her.

"What is _up_ with you?" her friend whispered as she shut the door. "That was rude, you know, lying to the party's host like that. The least you could do is dance with him. As it was, I had to apologize for you before running to catch up."

Amara's panic had now turned to anger. "Jewels, you know perfectly well that Bruce Wayne doesn't ask a woman to do anything without it meaning something else. There is no way in hell I'm going to end up as some billionaire's one-night-stand."

The blonde gaped at her. "What are you talking about? Bruce isn't like that!"

Amara rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Jewels, I know all about him and his ways, " she retorted. "Why would a man who dates models, actresses, and Russian ballerinas want a plain, dull librarian like me? Honestly, it's not that hard to figure out that he's just interested in one thing, and it isn't dancing or literature!"

"Maybe he likes you," Julie tried to persuade her.

A deadpanned look of doubt settled on Amara's face. "Jewels, that has to be the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Bruce Wayne does not '_like_' me, and I'm not going to stay at this party for another minute."

Turning to leave, she ran straight into a firm chest. "Oh, excuse me," she apologized.

Looking up, she saw it was the man she was trying to avoid: Bruce Wayne.

* * *

It hurt to hear her talk about him and his reputation like that. Yes, he had the appearance of a playboy, and was often in the company of one, or perhaps three, beautiful women whenever he went out in public, but that was only his public face, the one seen by the press, his peers, and the world. It was expected that a bachelor billionaire be out with a lot of girls, but those women already knew that it was more a business arrangement than anything else.

To be honest, Bruce hated being labeled as a 'player,' as they termed it. Sure, he liked women, but a steady relationship was impossible, now that Rachel…

He gave himself a mental shake. Rachel was gone, but she would always be in his heart. Bruce would never forget her, but something was telling him that she would have wanted him to find love with someone else.

As for Amara, the woman now looking up at him in surprise, she only knew the persona she'd seen in the papers and the entertainment tabloids. She didn't know the real Bruce Wayne, or the sort man he really was.

'_Maybe it's time to change that_,' he thought.

* * *

With his hazel eyes focused on her, Amara felt her heart flip inside her chest. The thought of 'God, he really is hot' came unbidden to her head.

"Hi there," he said cheerfully. "So, how about that dance? The DJ is about to start up some music, and I need a partner."

Any attraction she had was quickly replaced by anger. "Fine, you want a partner? I'll give you a partner."

Reaching behind her, she grabbed Julie's arm and shoved her into Bruce's chest. "There, you both deserve each other," she snapped. "You need a partner, and she thinks you're the greatest thing since sliced bread. Now _leave me alone_!"

Fighting back tears, Amara began to head straight for the elevator. She was nearly there when the doors opened and gunshots started going off.

"Good evening, boys and girls," chirped a voice that bordered between genuine amusement and insane laughter.

Staring at the intruders, Amara felt her heart and stomach drop to her feet. She'd recognize that face anywhere: the eyes surrounded by black paint, white cake makeup spread all around, and an eerie red smile painted on top of scars curving upwards from the corners of his mouth. But it couldn't be him. He was locked away at Arkham! How in the world did he get out?

Frozen with fear, all she could do was stare as men in clown masks ran about the room, demanding money and jewelry. Since she had none of those, Amara began to slowly back away as she looked down at her feet, praying that she escaped their notice.

Suddenly, a gloved hand slipped under her chin, forcing her to look up. There it was, the terrifying face that had struck fear into the hearts of millions, and who had killed innocent people without mercy.

"Hello, gorgeous." The cackling, insane voice of The Joker had changed, deepening itself with a touch of richness that seemed to come naturally to him. "Don't you look ravishing this evening."

Petrified with fear, Amara simply stood there, trying not to faint as the madman waved a knife in her face with one hand while the other smoothed back his greasy, strange-colored hair.

* * *

Oh, now here was a tempting sight. Red really was her color, and even though she'd gone pale from fear, she still looked appealing, sort of like those cinnamon candies that looked so good and tasted even better, their spiciness tickling the tongue. Those were his favorite.

Looking into her eyes, he saw fear, but deep inside those dark brown orbs, there was a touch of rebellion. Oh, the girl had a bit of spirit, too! He liked that, it made things interesting. So what should he do with her?

After smoothing his hair, he began to circle her, studying her as he moved. She was no stick figure, that's for sure. Some very nice curves were under that dress, and the thought of being able to see them for himself was exciting. Ravishing, indeed.

The Joker began a second circle, his eyes intent on the back of her dress. Why did some people make things so easy for him?

* * *

With the way The Joker was circling her, Amara was beginning to feel like a piece of meat being eyed by a vulture…or perhaps it was a hyena. Whatever it was, she didn't like it, and she wished he would stop looking at her like that.

He'd moved behind her now, and she hoped that The Joker would finish this twisted game of his and leave her alone. That was all she wanted: to be left alone.

Suddenly, she felt a tug at the back of her gown, and the sound of a knife tearing through material reached her ears. He'd cut into her dress!

Again she felt a tug and heard the sound of tearing fabric, and then he was before her, two lengths of red dangling from his fingers. Oh, god, he'd cut the two dangling strips from the back of her gown!

"I think it's time for a little trip," he whispered, leaning forward to look into Amara's eyes.

Confused at his comment, Amara anxiously watched as The Joker flipped his blade closed and tucked it into his jacket. With one of the cloth strips wound around his right hand, he was free to grip the two ends of the other cloth, one in each hand.

Before she knew what was happening, he'd pounced on her, trapping her wrists and tying them up with the red gauze material. As hard as she tried, Amara couldn't escape, the cloth binding her hands tightly together. With no way to fight back, she fell back to the only other thing she could do, and that was beg.

"No, please, let me go," she pleaded. "I, I have nothing you want! Please, _please_ let me go."

The Joker gave her a look that sent cold chills down her spine and silenced her instantly. Without a word, those gloved hands took the other length of fabric and wrapped it around her mouth, effectively gagging her.

"There we go," he said with a grin, made even more terrifying by his scars.

Grasping her firmly by the shoulders, The Joker whirled her around, pulling her back against his chest. Looking around the room, Amara saw the other guests look at her in fear and pity. Some of the men looked as though they wanted to help her, but dared not for fear of being killed.

"Well, well," her captor said, "it looks like I got more than I expected."

There was a 'ding' behind them as the elevator doors opened. The Joker's goons rushing to follow their boss.

"Thanks for the great party, folks," The Joker called to the partygoers. "You've been very…generous."

With that said, the doors slowly shut, and all Amara could do was watch, all hope of rescue gone.

* * *

AN: Next chapter: Batman! Hope that everyone enjoyed the chapter and will review! Thanks!


	3. Return of The Dark Knight

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: I'm going on vacation next week, so there won't be an update for a while. In the meantime, here's our favorite Caped Crusader! I hope that this will hold everyone over until I get back. Please be kind and review! Thanks!

**Chapter 3: Return of The Dark Knight**:

The fact that the Joker was crashing his party for the second time didn't bother Bruce one bit. No, what had gotten his blood pounding was the fact that the madman had taken Amara hostage.

At the sound of gunfire, Bruce had made sure Julie stayed tucked away in one of the guestrooms, knowing that if anything happened to the tiny blonde, Amara would undoubtedly kill him. Once he was positive of her safety, he ran to his bedroom, activated a hidden door and slipped through it.

Here was a room he had not been in for months. After the untimely deaths of Rachel and Harvey Dent, Bruce had put away his Batman suit and gear, knowing that the cops would be searching for Batman, eager to arrest him for crimes he didn't commit.

It had been worth taking the blame, though, for in accepting that responsibility, most of the criminals put away by Harvey were still behind bars. No one would know that the beloved White Knight of Gotham, Harvey Dent, had gone on a mad killing spree right before he died. Rachel would never have wanted that, and neither did Bruce, if only for her sake.

But now things were different. The Joker was free, somehow having escaped the island on which Arkham Asylum was situated. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and it was time for Batman to return to Gotham.

It only took him moments to change into his suit, but by the time he arrived back at the party, he was too late; The Joker was gone. In an attempt to see what had happened in his absence, Bruce snagged Alfred when he came out for some air, startling the poor old man. If the situation hadn't been so dire, Bruce would have laughed.

"What happened?" he asked in a gravely tone.

Alfred sighed. "The Joker took Miss Amara, the girl you told me to tend to," he said. "They're on their way down now. If you hurry, you can catch them."

Bruce felt his blood boil. The Joker had Amara; what he would do to her later didn't bear thinking about.

Leaping into action, he pulled out a grappling gun and fired it at the nearest wall. Once it was secure, he was able to swing over the back of the building, just as a large white van was peeling out. There was no doubt it was the Joker's getaway vehicle.

With a flick of the wrist, Bruce removed a tracking device from his belt and threw it at the van, just as he swung over the top of it. It landed right on top and stuck, magnetized to the metal. He would have no trouble following them.

* * *

Inside the van, Amara was thinking that she should have made a last will and testament before moving to Gotham, just in case something bad happened to her. If (or when) she survived this, that would be the first thing she did, besides profusely thank whoever saved her.

'_**If**__ someone comes to save me_,' she thought. '_Since Batman vanished, who else is there in the city to come and help me_?'

She highly doubted that the cops would be able to find her in time; someone from the party would have to call 911, and after that, there was that whole process of asking what happened, which way were they headed, etc. God, why were the police always so slow when it counted the most?

Quivering, Amara was praying for her life. She was currently in a large white van with her hands bound and her mouth gagged, and she had no idea if she would survive the night. So far, she wasn't hurt, but who knew about later on?

The ride down the elevator to the ground floor had her almost fainting in fear. The Joker had kept her wrapped in his arms, her back pressed against his chest as they descended from the penthouse. One of the men had snickered and tried to touch her, but he'd been rewarded with a deep slash on the arm and a punch to the face, both courtesy of his boss.

"No touching," The Joker snarled in his deep voice.

After that, the men kept their distance. However, when the elevator slowed to a stop, they huddled close around their boss and his hostage as they raced for the exit, Amara slung over the Joker's shoulder like a sack of stolen goods –which she sort of was, when you thought about it.

Out the back doors they ran, and a moment later, Amara found herself tossed into the back of a large van. One of the men firmly grabbed hold of her while the Joker made himself comfortable on the floor, which had been slightly cushioned with purple velvet.

Now that he was fully situated, the Joker turned towards his henchmen. "Give her here," he ordered in that slightly crazed voice of his.

Twisted around until she was seated on her bottom, Amara was immediately situated in the lap of the infamous killer, his arms tightly cradling her to his chest. His eerily painted eyes stared at her in the darkness; she could see them shining in the faint light that came in through a tinted window on the side of the van.

"There, all comfy?" She found it strange that his voice had changed, becoming slightly higher and a bit more crazed.

A faint click was heard, and Amara turned her head, nearly screaming at the sight of his knife hovering just barely an inch from her face. The blade glinted sliver in the dim light, and had it not been for her gag, she probably would have cried out then and there. Bound and gagged as she was, Amara could only silently pray that if he was going to kill her, he would do so quickly and not make her suffer a great deal.

Slowly, the blade moved closer, right until the side was a hairsbreadth away from her cheek. Out of the corner of her eye, Amara saw it lower, coming to a stop just above her breasts. Was he going to stab her through the heart? That was sure to be a quick death, right? Her eyes fluttered shut as she waited for the painful blow.

The touch of a gloved finger on her skin was startling, forcing Amara's eyes open. Light brown eyes stared down at her from two black holes surrounded by white makeup, the tip of her captor's tongue sticking out slightly from the corner of his mouth. It was as though he were studying her, trying to figure out a puzzle that he didn't know the answer to, and found it fascinating. It was beginning to creep her out as much as the sharp knife was.

A flicker of desire flashed in the eyeholes and she began to tremble. '_Oh, god, what if he plans to rape me_?' Surely death was more preferable than that?

Frozen with fear, Amara decided to keep still, hoping impossibly for rescue from this maniac.

* * *

It had been years since he'd had a woman in his arms, and like any man, The Joker liked the feel of a female pressed against him.

'_Hmm, very nice_,' he thought, studying the soft, exposed skin with intense interest.

At the party, the Joker had admired the modest, but still risqué, cut of the ravishing red gown, exposing just enough of her bust to be tempting and teasing, but not showing heaving breasts like the gowns of the other girls. Best of all, the red dress exposed slim arms and drew attention to the woman's graceful, swan-like neck.

He liked pretty necks.

With his captive settled in his lap and certainly petrified with fear, the Joker was able to enjoy himself a bit. Her dark brown eyes were like chocolate, and her luscious brown locks, equally delectable-looking, had been pinned up into an elegant bun that was now coming undone, sending waves and curls down her back and, occasionally, across her neck. The tip of one lock rested just above the swell of her breasts.

The tip of his tongue ran over his lips. '_Oh, this one is going to be a keeper_,' the Joker thought with a soft chuckle. '_Even her hair is teasing me_!'

But he wasn't going to touch her skin-to-skin, not yet. There would be plenty of time for that later. For now, he was happy to slide a gloved finger up and down her neck, watching her expression grow more and more terrified as each moment slid by.

* * *

Amara could feel her heart race faster as time passed, and still the van did not stop. The Joker continued his strangely gentle molestation of her, sliding gloved fingers up and down, around and back again over her neck. The blade of the knife always hovered just at the rim of her vision, reminding her that, if she so much as annoyed him, she would die.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the van slowed to a stop. The rear doors burst open, men spewed out, and the knife that lurked so dangerously close to her vanished, a soft click and a rustle of fabric signaling that it was safely away inside its owner's coat.

Rough hands lifted her from the Joker's lap, dragged her out of the van, then held her so that she was standing up, waiting until the Joker had emerged to take possession of his prize. After straightening out his odd purple suit and green shirt, The Joker reached out for her.

"Come on, beautiful," he said, grinning broadly.

Amara shook her head 'no' before she could stop herself. The Joker looked at her for a long moment, seeming to think about the situation for just a bit.

A split second later, Amara was being dragged ruthlessly into a large warehouse, the scents of water, rust, rotting garbage and waste assaulting her nose before they were cut off, replaced with the smell of dust, musty air and metal.

Looking around, she saw what was once a prosperous company, now nothing more than a broken-down warehouse. There were several dozen boxes of televisions, DVD players, and other expensive objects, no doubt stolen and would be sold for the Joker's profit. Either that or the men were going to use it for their own amusements.

They came to a stop before a metal doorway, which the Joker kicked open with a yell of triumph. Dragging her inside, Amara heard him tell his men not to disturb him unless The Bat showed up, then slammed the door shut. There was the sound of several locks being put in place, and the sensation of flying. To her surprise, Amara had literally been thrown on top of a large bed, landing face down on soft purple sheets.

Rolling over onto her back, Amara quickly wished she hadn't. The Joker was standing there, looking down on her the way a cat looks down at the meal it's caught. He was even licking his strange lips, the tip of his tongue moving from one side of his scarred mouth to the other. It was disgusting.

Then he was upon her, pouncing on top of and pinning her to the bed. The knife he so lovingly carried appeared from nowhere, pressing against her cheek.

"You know, you look so delectable all tied up and gagged like that," he whispered. "And it brings to mind one question: what sort of _fun_ are you and I going to have together tonight?"

Amara closed her eyes, wishing that she could scream around the gag in her mouth. At the feel of his lips pressing against her neck, she cried out, the sound muted by the red material tied around her head. Just as she felt gloved hands move towards the hem of her gown, the weight of the Joker's body was lifted away, startling Amara into opening her eyes.

'_What's happening_?' she frantically thought.

Looking around, she spotted her captor colliding with the cement wall, effectively knocking him out. Wide-eyed, Amara searched the room, her heart almost bursting from her chest at the sight of the black cloaked figure.

'_Batman_?'

* * *

Bruce knew that tracking the Joker wasn't the most difficult task; it was his mode of transportation that was the problem.

The race after the criminal's van would be difficult. Bruce's tank-like vehicle, The Tumbler, was sure to attract attention, which was the last thing he wanted; the cops would give chase the moment they saw him, forcing Bruce to put off Amara's rescue in order to try and keep himself out of prison long enough to find her and get her out of the Joker's grasp. That would create a no-win situation for him and for Amara.

Sadly, that could not be helped. The Tumbler was his only mode of transportation, besides the Batpod, and that was a motorcycle built only for one. He needed a safe way to get Amara home, and The Tumbler was it.

Smiling to himself, Bruce reached towards his utility belt and patted the device that activated his enormous vehicle. Its predecessor had been destroyed over six months earlier, and his friend, Lucius Fox, had somehow pulled some strings and gotten Bruce a replacement. It was hidden a block away from where he stood; at least the Joker's men wouldn't spot it and alert their boss.

Using the tracing device he'd placed on the Joker's van, Bruce had rushed The Tumbler down the back streets of Gotham, avoiding cops and hoping that he wouldn't get there too late. When the moving dot on the screen had come to a stop in the rundown part of the warehouse district, he'd heaved a sigh of relief. That area had a thousand places for him to hide and study the situation.

It was simple to tuck his car in a dark alleyway and race over the rooftops to where he knew the Joker to be hiding out. He'd gotten there just as Amara's red-clad form was dragged into the abandoned warehouse, a crowd of hired goons trailing in the wake of their boss.

Slipping closer to the building, Bruce activated his inferred goggles. The smaller, struggling form moving behind a larger one had to be Amara, and he could only guess that the other was the crazed killer himself. He watched as the taller figure opened a door, then proceeded to shut and lock it before tossing the smaller one onto a bed.

Unable to take anymore, Bruce acted.

It took little effort to get inside; the place wasn't exactly a fortress, and even if it were, Bruce had all the tools he needed right there at his fingertips. With a grappling hook and a few evasive techniques, he was inside. A few minutes later, he was in what could only be defined as the Joker's bedroom, and what Bruce saw made him want to kill the bastard.

There was Amara, eyes closed in terror as the Joker ran his fingers along her body. His painted face was buried in the crook of her neck, and one of his hands held a knife to her throat.

Not even bothering to think, Bruce ran forward, grabbed the hand holding the knife, and clutched the maniac's collar. With all of his anger fueling his strength, it was easy to toss the monster against the wall, knocking him out.

* * *

With Gotham City's greatest hero standing before her, all Amara could do was stare. He was so tall, not counting the pointed ears of his cowl, and there had to be some serious muscle under all of that body armor he had on. The sharp points along the edges of his gloves looked deadly, but that didn't make her fear him, even when all of his attention was focused on her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low and gravely. "Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head as Batman came towards her, his hands quickly removing the gag from her mouth. "No, I'm alright," Amara truthfully replied. "Well, physically, anyway. Emotionally and mentally, I think it's safe to say this will be one night I'll try and forget."

The corner of his mouth twitched as though he were trying hard not to smile. Sitting patiently, she waited for him to untie her hands, tossing aside the red strips of fabric before reaching out and lifting her up into his arms. Squeaking in surprise, Amara wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to the far wall.

For a moment, Batman paused, appearing to study the ceiling and the line of incredibly large windows that opened up to the roof. One of them was open, a telltale sign of how he'd gotten inside.

Gently, he placed Amara on her feet, though he kept her arms around his neck. "Hold on," he rumbled. Amara nodded and buried her face in his neck.

She heard a soft 'pfft,' and the next thing she knew, her body seemed weightless. Peeking out, her eyes widened as Batman lifted the two of them off the ground and out of the warehouse. It was the most thrilling thing Amara had ever felt, and even though she should have been screaming in terror, she found the experience to be absolutely incredible.

'_Oh, my god, I'm being rescued by Batman_!' she kept thinking as he swung them out the window. '_Julie will never believe this when I tell her_!'

Then, all of a sudden, down they went, landing on the ground with a soft jolt. Amara kept her arms around Batman's neck as she watched him reach towards his utility belt and pull out what resembled a car alarm activator. Seriously, did Batman even need a car alarm, even if this was Gotham City?

A soft rumble filled her ears, and for a moment, she thought it was going to storm. To her surprise, a huge vehicle that could only be described as a tank pulled up, stopping right at their feet. The top opened, and once more, Amara found herself lifted into the powerful arms of The Dark Knight. With what appeared to be little effort, he seemed to fly up to the top and gently put her inside before joining her, taking his place in the driver's seat with the ease of a man very familiar with his car.

The roof overhead came together, shielding them from the outside world. "Hold on," he warned, right before slamming his foot onto the gas pedal.

Amara was jerked back in her seat, which she soon noticed was strong, but soft leather, making the seat rather comfortable. Taking a look outside the window, she saw buildings fly by.

"Where are we going?" she asked in a small voice.

"To wherever your home or apartment is," Batman replied. "I've alerted the police to where the Joker's hideout is. They should be arriving there shortly."

She nodded and gave him her address. A few minutes passed, and she turned to look at her rescuer. "Can I ask you something?" He threw her a quick glance, but said nothing, so she continued. "What happens if he decides to come after me again?" There was no question as to which "he" she was referring to.

"Do you have any friends or family you can stay with in the city?"

Amara shook her head. "I won't put anyone I care about in danger," she firmly told him.

"What about asking for help from the police? Or maybe you know some important people who are willing to help."

She snorted. "The only important person I know would be Bruce Wayne, and I've only known him for a total of ten minutes. I hardly think that counts."

The tank-like car pulled to a stop in an alley right beside her apartment building, but to her surprise, Batman didn't open the roof right away. Instead, he turned towards her and looked deep into her eyes.

"Mr. Wayne is a rich and powerful man," the masked vigilante told her. "He can help protect you where others can't."

Amara shook her head. "There's no way I'm asking billionaire Bruce Wayne for help," she stubbornly told him. "I barely even know the man, and from what I've seen, I don't want to get to know him."

"Just promise me that you'll think about it."

She bit her lip. It was the least she could do, considering he'd just saved her life. "Okay, I'll think about it."

"Good." The roof opened and he climbed out, reaching down to give her a hand. "Let's go."

She took it and climbed out, surprised when Batman slid down and held his arms up to her, like a medieval knight did when helping a lady down from his horse. Blushing, she reached down and felt strong hands on her hips, gently lifting her before putting her softly on the ground.

Glancing up at his masked face, Amara couldn't help but notice how full his lips were. Was it suddenly getting warm out here, or was it just her?

"Will you be alright getting inside on your own?"

Forcing herself back to earth, Amara nodded. "Yeah, no problem," she said, pulling her eyes away from his mouth to look at the ground. "It's just around the corner of the building there."

"Alright, then," he said, pulling away from her. Amara immediately found herself missing the contact and the warmth he brought with his presence.

Quickly, she looked up and watched as he leaped into his car. "Thank you!" she called.

He gave her a salute just before the roof closed in. In a flash, he was gone, and not ten minutes later, Amara was in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if there was a way to cure her blossoming crush for the masked man.

* * *

AN: There's every Batman fan's dream: to be saved by the hot Batman himself. I hope that everyone enjoyed themselves and will review. Thanks!


	4. When Normal Is No Longer Possible

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing related to _**Batman**_ and that universe. Only original characters are mine.

AN: Back from vacation! I hope that all of you were good while I was away (winks). Anyway, here's the next chapter! Please enjoy, and don't forget to review. Thanks!

**Chapter 4: When Normal Is No Longer Possible:**

Considering the trauma that had happened, it was pretty obvious to Amara that she would have a hard time sleeping that night. Before she went to bed, she'd had a cup of soothing tea and took a hot shower, hoping to feel a tiny bit more relaxed.

However, her mind was plagued with thoughts of what The Joker might have done to her if Batman hadn't shown up. Images of the crazed murderer haunted her, and that made for a rough time in getting into the mood for some shut-eye.

Finally, Amara resorted to taking a sleeping pill, a rarity for her. Normally it didn't take much for her to get to sleep, but considering she had just been held hostage by a knife-wielding maniac wearing clown makeup, it was safe to say that she wasn't going to fall asleep on her own tonight.

Much to her relief, the pill worked, and when she woke up, Amara felt relatively stable enough to return to work. True, it might be too soon, especially after such a fright, but she couldn't let this get to her. Besides, she was sure that The Joker would soon forget all about her; after all, she wasn't exactly the sort of person a maniac would take interest in.

'_I mean, who obsesses over a librarian_?' she thought with a shake of her head. '_It's best to just put this behind me, and if I can't, then I'll head to the nearest psychiatrist_.'

But in spite of her eagerness to head back to work, Amara knew it might not be easy. Julie would probably have a whole lot of questions about what had happened to her last night, as would the rest of her coworkers, but that was to be expected.

'_I'll just say that The Joker knocked me out or something, and that I don't remember much_,' Amara thought while brushing her hair. '_If they asked how I was rescued, I suppose I could say I guess it was Batman, and that I woke up in bed at home. They might buy that, since the cops would never have taken me home so quickly after a rescue_.'

Once she'd had a quick breakfast, she pulled on a long skirt that came down to her calves, a pale blue blouse, and her black shoes. Her jacket was draped over her arm, and her travel bag had nothing important in it except for her lunch, a few file folders with library forms in them, her can of mace, and a tin of mints. A hidden pocket in her skirt carried a small wallet with money, ID, and two credit cards.

Putting on a brave face, Amara took a deep breath. '_Okay, I can do this_,' she thought to herself. '_After all, you're safe, Batman and the cops are sure to track down the Joker and haul him back to Arkham, and then everything can get back to normal….well, as normal as they can get in Gotham City_.'

Unfortunately, the rest of the world had been working against her while she slept, because the minute she got outside, a mob of photographers, news cameras and reporters swarmed over her.

"Miss Thomas, how were you rescued and brought home, if the police didn't do it?" yelled a woman from a local network. "Was Batman the one who saved you?"

"Miss Thomas, if Batman _did_ rescue you, how does it feel knowing you were saved by a man in a mask, especially one who's being hunted by Gotham Police?" rushed out a young man in a terribly ugly suit.

Amara held her hands up to her eyes, trying to block out the flashes coming off of the photographers' cameras. A dozen other questions were flung at her, but she waved them aside, not wanting to answer any of them.

'_How the hell did they find me, anyway_?' she wondered while trying to get to the curb and hail a cab.

To her surprise, a shiny black Mercedes town car pulled up, and when the passenger window opened an inch, Amara was shocked to see Alfred seated in the front.

"Thought you could use a ride this morning, Miss!" he called.

Not hesitating for a second, Amara pulled the door open and dove inside, closing and locking the door against the rush of paparazzi and reporters. Alfred waited for the traffic to clear, then headed out into the street, leaving the madness behind them.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Amara turned to her rescuer with a smile. "Thanks, Alfred, but how'd you know I'd need help?" She looked around the car, her eyebrows lifting up in surprise. "And how can you afford a car like this on your salary?"

The older man chuckled. "It's not my car, Miss Amara. It's Master Wayne's."

Amara's jaw dropped. "Wayne…as in _Bruce_ _Wayne_?" she squeaked. "_You_ work for _Bruce Wayne_?"

He gave her a look filled with amusement. "Yes, Miss. He was very worried about you last night after you were taken, and when he'd heard that you were safely at home, he sent me to help you escape the media circus camped outside your building."

She looked at the leather seats, expensive wood dashboard, and stereo system. "Wow, he must trust and like you a lot to let you drive this beauty."

"Well, I've helped raise him since he was a boy, so yes, he does trust me quite a bit." Alfred shifted the car into another gear.

For the rest of the ride to the library, Amara was able to learn a bit about Alfred's connection to Bruce Wayne. Apparently the older man was the trusted butler and near surrogate father to the billionaire, and Amara couldn't help but respect Alfred for that. It must have been very hard raising a child, especially after what had happened to Mr. Wayne's parents.

"But enough about me," the Englishman said. "What about yourself? Do you like your job at the library?"

"Of course!" she said emphatically. "I love being a librarian." Amara blushed. "I've always loved books, you see, so it's only logical career choice."

Alfred chuckled. "Too true, Miss Amara."

"Oh, please don't keep calling me "miss,"" she said. "Just Amara is fine."

"Very well, Amara," he said with a playful smile. "Well, here we are, Gotham Library."

Peeking out the window, she saw that he'd taken her to the back of the building, away from the crowds and, hopefully, the reporters.

"Thanks, Alfred." She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "And I guess it's only fair for you to thank Mr. Wayne for me, since he _did_ send you and the car."

He chuckled and patted her arm. "I'll be sure to give him the message for you." He looked over at the building. "May I ask what time you get off? I wouldn't want you to face those vultures all by your lonesome again."

She quickly told him her hours, and bid another farewell before getting out of the car. To her surprise, Alfred stayed where he was until he saw her open the door, driving off once he was sure she was safe.

'_He's sweet_,' Amara thought with a smile. It sort of made you wonder how Bruce Wayne managed to grow up to be the playboy that he was. Oh, well.

Off she went, into the building and out to the main desk, where Amara was surprised to see not only Julie waiting for her, but also a tall, thin, older woman who was the embodiment of the stereotypical librarian: Mrs. Wilson, the head librarian, and her boss. Both women looked at Amara with as much surprise as she felt, though Julie also looked relieved.

"Oh, my gosh, Amara!" Julie gasped while racing over to her friend, throwing her arms around Amara's waist in a crushing hug. "I was so worried about you!"

Mrs. Wilson came over. "We both were. How are you, dear? I know the trauma must have been great; you really didn't have to come in today. Perhaps you should go home?"

"Jewels, I can't breathe," Amara gasped. Julie quickly released her, though she didn't go very far.

Clearing her throat, Amara shook her head. "It's okay, Mrs. Wilson. I think that if I don't keep myself busy in some way, I'll cry. Coming to work is the only way I can do something I love and keep my head on straight, so I think I'll stay here today."

The head librarian looked her over. "Well, if you're sure. Perhaps, once you're past all of this, you'll tell us how you managed to escape the hands of The Joker, though I can probably guess."

With that said, she turned and walked away, leaving the two young women behind at the desk. Once she was out of earshot, Julie pounced.

"Okay, spill," she said, forcing Amara into her assigned chair at the desk. "What happened after The Joker took you? I'm pretty sure that it wasn't all rainbows and sunshine."

Sighing, Amara began to rub the spot between her eyes, knowing that a migraine was in the process of starting. "He drove me to his hideout, and when we got there, he dragged me inside, all at knifepoint. Then he took me to his room, and just when things began to get ugly…"

She looked around for anyone listening. Finding no one, she leaned forward and whispered, "Batman showed up."

"No way!" Julie exclaimed before Amara hushed her. "You got saved by _Batman_? Oh, I'm so jealous of you! Well, not for the whole Joker thing, but Batman! Wow! Did he take you home? Was he hot? What was his car like?"

Amara laughed. Julie always did know how to cheer her up, even unintentionally. "Yes, it was Batman, and he did take me home. I don't know about his face, but his voice is interesting, and his car is more like a tank."

Julie collapsed into another chair. "Whoa," was all she said.

"Yeah, really clever response, Jewels," Amara sarcastically replied. "Now, if you don't mind, we've got work to do before Mrs. Wilson decides _not_ to be so kindly to us."

Ever fearful of the chief librarian's wrath, Julie gave a squeak of alarm before rushing off to collect returned materials from the night previous.

* * *

The rest of Amara's day was not very pleasant. Somehow the press had found out where she worked, and a stream of newspaper reporters, TV people, and other annoying media folks had come flowing into the library, wanting to know everything there was to know about Amara Thomas.

This stream began just after lunch, when Amara was sitting down at the desk, ready to help a little girl with checking out her book, when a rude man in an expensive trench coat pushed the girl aside.

"Ow!" the child said, rubbing her arm.

"Back off, squirt," the man snapped before turning towards Amara. "You're Amara Thomas, the girl who got swiped by The Joker, right?"

Immediately sensing this guy was scum wrapped in fashion, Amara scowled at him and looked around him towards the little girl. "Sweetie, why don't I help you use the cool machines over there? They let you check out books all by yourself, you know."

The child immediately perked up and nodded. "Okay!"

"Hey, lady, I said-"

The glare she leveled at him could have peeled paint. "I know what you want, and frankly, I don't care who you are, or what paper or station you're from. Back off, stop hurting innocent kids, and get out of my library!" Amara quietly hissed before going to help the tiny patron.

Behind her, she could hear him rushing to catch up to her, but ignored him, instead focusing on helping the little girl check out her book all by herself. Once the child was safely away in her mother's charge, Amara headed back to her desk, the man following close behind.

"So, how about an interview for the Gotham News?" he said, producing a tape recorder.

"How about you back off before I call security?" snapped Julie as she emerged from the rear storage rooms.

Reluctantly, the man backed away and took his recorder with him. "I guess I'll see you later, Miss Thomas," he said. "Don't be surprised if I find you another time."

The rest of the day, it was one person after another, all wanting an interview or a photo. Julie quickly stuck to her word about getting security, who stuck by the desk at all times, ready to haul away any interlopers. This provided some peace for Amara's sanity, but not much.

By the time the day ended, a huge headache had begun to take root, and before she left, Amara popped a few aspirin before heading out, praying that Alfred had kept his word about picking her up. She really didn't feel like taking the bus or grabbing a cab.

Much to her relief, Alfred was there, smiling in sympathy when he saw her strained and pale face.

"Bad day?" he asked with a wink while opening one of the rear doors for her.

"Yes," she groaned while rubbing the bridge of her nose.

He gave a sympathetic 'hmm' and nodded. "In you go, then. We'll have you home in a jiffy."

Amara was seated in the back seat, eyes shut, when his words fully processed. "We?" she said questioningly.

"Yes, 'we,'" said a familiar voice, rich and cultured, and very masculine.

Opening her eyes, Amara slowly turned her head and stared. "Mr. Wayne?"

He gave her a smile. "Please, call me Bruce."

She swallowed. "I thought only Alfred would be taking me home," she managed to say, her voice high and slightly panicked.

Bruce gave her a dashing grin. "Well, I wanted to see how you were, so here I am." His smile faded just a bit. "After all, you were taken at my party, and I feel responsible for what happened. I'll be posting a lot more security next time."

Now it was Amara's turn to smile, or as much as she could with a pounding head. "It wasn't your fault, Mr.— I mean, Bruce. You couldn't have known that maniac would show up. The only person I blame is him."

The rest of the ride was fairly pleasant. Bruce told her what had happened after she'd been taken, most of it good news.

"All of the guests were unharmed, and once the police located the Joker's hideout, at least half of the stolen items were returned," Bruce said as Alfred drove down a busy street. "Those that lost something permanently are glad it was only jewelry or watches, not their lives."

Amara swallowed nervously. "And…The Joker?" she quietly asked.

Bruce winced. "I'm sorry to say that he escaped," he said apologetically.

She sighed and leaned back in her seat, thankful that the aspirin was beginning to work. "I'm sure that they'll get him…eventually."

Just like at the library, Alfred pulled the car up to the rear entrance. "Here you are," he cheerfully said. "Do you want me to follow you up, Amara? You look like you need a hand."

"I'll take her, Alfred," Bruce hastily replied.

Carefully, he helped her out and escorted her into the building, not moving from her side until they reached her doorway. Her head still slightly pounding, Amara stuck the key in the lock and turned, her eyes suddenly filling with red the moment she was inside.

At first, she thought it was the headache getting to her. When she heard Bruce mutter a few curses under his breath, she knew it wasn't her head, or her imagination.

Scattered around her hallway floor and tables were hundreds of exotic blood-red flowers, forming an eerie smiley face reminiscent of The Joker's.

Amara collapsed, right into the arms of Bruce Wayne.

* * *

Pacing the floor of his new hideout, the Joker twirled his knife in one hand while the other held a picture, his eyes not moving from the image as he walked. It was a photo of Amara Thomas, his hostage from the night before, as she left her apartment building. She was different in her work clothes.

'_A librarian_,' he thought, licking his lips. '_It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for: you never know what sort of bold, and deliciously tempting, persona they've got hidden behind the glasses and frumpy outfits_.'

Still, even a crazed man like him was surprised to see that a librarian could look like _that_ at a party. Beware the quiet females, indeed. He loved those kinds of women. It was too bad that Bat-brain showed up when he did, before any fun could be had with her.

One of his goons coughed from behind him. "You wanted a report, boss?"

The Joker merely waved his hand for the man to continue. It hadn't been hard to find out who the girl was and where she worked, considering her name and face were now all over the news and the papers. Once he was armed with that information, he'd managed to find her address and send one of his goons to grab a few photos of her. Then he'd sent her a very special present.

"Uh, the flowers were sent and arranged, just like you ordered." The goon swallowed hard. "But there's a problem."

The Joker whirled around. "What _problem_?" he snarled.

"The girl was seen going into her apartment with some guy. They looked kind of…friendly-like."

A knife flew through the air and embedded itself in the wall, right next to the man's head.

* * *

Slowly opening her eyes, Amara found herself looking into concerned hazel orbs set into a very handsome face, namely Bruce Wayne's. A damp cloth was pressed to her forehead, and the smell of something spicy filled the air.

"Bruce?" she whispered. "What happened?"

He smiled kindly at her. "You fainted after…well, after you saw the flowers."

'_Those blood-red flowers_,' she thought, shivering at the memory.

Bruce was speaking again. "Amara, you shouldn't stay here, especially now that The Joker knows where you live," he said. "If he's managed to flood your place with these, then you aren't safe here, not anymore."

Damn it, he was right. If The Joker knew where she lived, then he'd try over and over again to try and mess with her head, try and kidnap her all over again, or worse, kill her.

Something in the way Bruce looked at her made Amara pay close attention to him. He appeared upset, and more than a little worried, though she couldn't imagine why. He didn't know her, and maybe he felt a _little_ responsible for what had happened at his party, but that didn't explain why the playboy billionaire wanted to make sure she, a common librarian, was okay.

It seems he was partly psychic, too, because the next thing he said sort of explained everything.

"Batman contacted me, you know," Bruce told her. "He said that you might need help if The Joker ever found you, and I think he's right."

He took her hands in his, a friendly, caring gesture, nothing more. "I can help you. I've got a few places for you to stay at, one away from the city, if you want, and Alfred can take you to work with no trouble."

Amara wanted to say 'no,' really she did, but how could she? The Joker knew where she was, and she had no doubts about him trying to torment her in the future.

'_Besides, Bruce is bound to have fantastic security people and stuff at his fingertips_,' Amara reasoned. '_And Batman vouched for him, so it should be okay_.'

For some reason, she felt that if there was one person she could trust, it had to be Batman.

Anyway, it probably wouldn't be for long. After all, why would The Joker bother stalking a librarian, of all people? There were far more interesting persons of interest in the city besides her, and he was bound to forget about her once she was no longer in the papers.

'_In the meantime, I don't really have a choice in the matter_.'

"Alright," she said with a sigh as she slowly got up from the couch. "I'll go with you."

Not half an hour later, she was in the car with Bruce, her most prized and portable possessions loaded into the trunk. As the car pulled away from the building, Alfred promised that the rest of her belongings would be carefully packed up and taken to a secure place, perhaps even to where she was staying, wherever that was.

Watching her apartment building fade into the background, Amara couldn't help but wonder what the future had in store for her. She prayed that The Joker would forget he'd even met her, but something told her it wasn't that simple. Things like this never were.

* * *

AN: The romance will start happening sooner or later…most likely later. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed and will review! Thanks!


	5. The Home of a Billionaire

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Moving in with Bruce Wayne…lucky girl, isn't she? Or maybe not, depending on whose view you look at. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys the chapter and will review. Thanks!

**Chapter 5: The Home of a Billionaire**:

As the car slowed down, Amara looked out the window and was surprised to see the familiar building holding the Wayne penthouse. She wasn't sure she'd be able to handle returning there, considering what had happened the last time.

A strong hand reached out and gently took hers, offering comfort and strength. "Don't worry," Bruce softly told her. "If it makes you feel uncomfortable, I can move you elsewhere."

She shook her head. "No, it's alright. I only saw a small part of your home, and I'm sure it looks a lot different than it did at the party."

Bruce smiled. "I promise that everything from the party is gone. You won't even recognize the place."

He was right. When the elevator doors opened, Amara heaved a sigh of relief. On the walk from the car to the elevator, and on the ride up, she'd thought that flashbacks from the previous evening would come rushing back, but thankfully, it wasn't so.

The penthouse _was_ completely different from last night, the spaces that had once been crowded with food tables and guests were now empty, leaving a wide open area that was warm and welcoming. Furniture in modern styles with a touch of elegance seemed scattered around, but were actually strategically placed, offering easy access to comfortable chairs, tables, even a large plasma television on the wall. It was very impressive and beautiful, and this was only the entry room.

Bruce carefully took her arm, and Amara found herself receiving a personal tour of a billionaire's bachelor pad. There was a large, spacious kitchen that was clearly Alfred's domain, and the kindly butler also had his own set of rooms to one side of the house, which Amara thought was fitting, considering how devoted he was to his employer.

A large dining room and a smaller, more intimate eating area completed the left section of the house, both of them close to the kitchen, probably so that food remained hot as it was being carried out to the diners. Large, perfectly polished tables and beautifully cushioned chairs filled the larger dining room, the main table holding a multi-branched silver candlestick holder in its center. The smaller room was more of a cozy nook, and was less elegantly furnished, making it more welcome.

Bruce then proceeded to show her the right side of the penthouse, which was every bit as impressive as the kitchen and dining areas. First was a huge living room, accessed through large mahogany doors that slid open to the sides. One wall held tall windows that offered a fantastic view of Gotham, and set under the windows was an equally huge couch, which looked as though a person could sink into it and never want to get up.

The rest of the living room held several floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a few of them holding DVDs and CDs, which could then be popped into the ultra-modern entertainment center that included a sound system any other man would give his right arm for.

"Feel free to use this whenever you want," Bruce told her as he casually waved his hand around. "I doubt we have the same tastes in literature, film and music, so feel free to send Alfred out for whatever it is you want. Once your things are packed, I'll have all of your movies and such brought here – discreetly, of course – to make things easier on you."

Amara could only nod her thanks and follow him to the next room, which was a small study. Since everything looked too perfectly placed and cleaned, Amara guessed that this room was almost never used. Bruce saw her look of amusement and winked before leading her on down the hall.

Next came a guest room, which was at least twice the size of Amara's own bedroom in her apartment. The bed pressed against the far left wall was a queen size, and was wrapped in white sheets with a brown comforter at least three inches thick. There were small bedside tables on both sides of the bed; one holding a lamp for reading, the other one bare, probably so that the person staying here could place their own items on top of it.

The far left corner of the room held a mahogany desk, right beside tall windows overlooking the city. There was even a sliding glass door that led outside to a small garden. The front left corner had a vanity with a large mirror and enough space to hold dozens of perfume bottles and makeup containers.

On the right side of the room was a door that likely led to a private bathroom. Also on the right was a very comfortable-looking couch covered in red, cushy material, a large matching footrest, and a good-sized plasma television mounted on the wall. Amara was amazed to see a little refrigerator beside the couch, as well as a small table clearly meant to hold drinks, snacks, and the remote.

Meanwhile, Bruce was talking. "And this is where you'll be staying."

Amara's jaw dropped. She was going to stay _here_? "Are you sure?" she blurted out. "I mean, this room is…"

Hazel eyes glinted at her in amusement. "I want you to be at home here," Bruce gently assured her. "You deserve to be comfortable, and this room has never been used in all the time I've lived here. I want you to use it, even if it's to burn the furniture as firewood."

She opened her mouth to say that she would _not_ burn the furniture, and blushed, realizing he was joking. "Well, alright, if you insist," Amara muttered, brown eyes staring around the room.

"Wonderful!" he said, rubbing his hands together. "Your closet door is tucked over there in the front right corner, but don't worry, it's a lot bigger than you think it is. You should be able to fit all of your things in there with little trouble."

Bruce gestured towards the hallway. "Alfred should have something whipped up for dinner by the time you're settled in. I'm sorry to say that I won't be able to join you, since I've got several business meetings that are sure to run late tonight, but I'm sure Alfred will be good company for you."

"Oh, okay," Amara replied in a soft voice, her mind still spinning from all that was happening. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

She couldn't help but blush as Bruce took her hand and gave a polite bow over it. "Until tomorrow," he said, right before he vanished down the hall, leaving a confused Amara standing in the doorway of her new room.

"Miss Amara?" Alfred called to her from somewhere in the house. "Where are you?"

"I'm here!" she called back.

A moment later, the older man appeared, bearing her most precious belongings in his arms. Amara had put them in his care as Bruce escorted her out of the car and into the elevator, leaving Alfred to park the car in its assigned spot. Before pulling away, however, Alfred had promised to take good care of her things until they were safely in her possession once more.

"Here you are, Miss," he said, gently handing her the large box that held her laptop, her favorite books, a few pieces of clothing, and a few of her old 'friends' from childhood. "I was especially careful with that stuffed doll, since she looked rather fragile."

Amara blushed and thanked him. "I don't think I have enough stuff to fill this guest room, Alfred," she honestly told him. "I mean, my computer can go on the desk, and the other things can go on the vanity or the bed, but that space is just too big. I mean, my apartment is about that size, kitchen and all! It's so overwhelming!"

Alfred's chuckle was full of friendliness and honest amusement, making it soothing rather than scathing. "I can see that it would be, Miss Amara. Now, how about you try and get settled in while I make supper? Is there anything you'd like, since Master Wayne will not be joining us?"

She nibbled her lip in thought. "Well, if you wouldn't mind, I would love spaghetti," Amara shyly told him. "And I doubt it'll take me very long to settle, considering how little I brought. I've got to remember that I need to go pick up some more of my work clothes later on today."

"I'm sorry, Miss, but I don't think it would be a good idea for you to return to your apartment anytime soon," Alfred said, his voice filled with caution and concern. "If you need more clothes, I can take you shopping tomorrow. Master Wayne gave me his permission to help you purchase whatever clothing it is you need, plus things such as shampoo and the like, since I doubt you brought yours with you."

He had a point, there. Packing up soap and shampoo had been the last thing on Amara's list as she fled her apartment, since it would have been easier to get it at the drug store on the way back from work. But for Bruce Wayne to offer to buy her clothes, and with his own money? That was a touch much, wasn't it?

"I don't know," she muttered. "I feel bad enough staying here at his house. I don't think I could handle it if he started buying me things."

Alfred reached out and took her hand. "He's only doing what any decent human being would do in this situation," he told her. "Despite what you might think about him, Master Wayne is a good man behind that entire playboy image he keeps up for the public. No matter what he does for you, he would never expect you to repay him in any sort of way."

That was a bit comforting, but only a little. Amara still didn't like the idea of being housed, clothed, and protected by a handsome billionaire, but what else could she do? There was no one else for her to turn to here in Gotham, not unless she wanted them to get hurt in the chaos that The Joker was sure to cause in the future. She really had no other choice.

Nodding her acceptance of the situation, Amara turned to enter her room, but stopped. At the end of the hall was a door, one which Bruce had not showed her.

"Ah, that would be Master Wayne's room," Alfred informed her as he turned towards the kitchen. "Best not to go in there unless invited."

"No worries about that," Amara muttered as she went into her own room, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

For an Englishman, Amara had to admit that Alfred knew how to cook a fantastic spaghetti dinner. There were the noodles, of course, but also a fantastic tomato sauce that made Amara wish her stomach was bigger. And then there was the garlic bread, fresh and homemade, and the wonderful chocolate mousse he made for dessert.

"Oh, lord, Alfred, I think I'm going to explode," she groaned as he took away her tiny dessert cup. "If you always cook like this, you're going to have to start rolling me to the library every day."

Alfred chuckled as he set the dish in the sink. "Well, it's nice to be appreciated," he said. "Most of the time, Master Wayne is out on business meetings and the like, so there's no reason to make meals like this. It's nice to have someone else to cook meals for."

She patted her stomach. "Trust me, Bruce doesn't know what he's missing."

Slowly, Amara got up from her seat at the kitchen's island. Since it was just her and Alfred, she had told him that there was no point in her sitting at an empty dinner table when the two of them could eat together in the kitchen. Alfred had been reluctant at first, but when Amara reminded him that she wasn't used to being waited on, he gave in and ate with her.

Needless to say, the conversation between them had been fun and interesting. Alfred told some more stories about young Bruce growing up, and Amara laughed at the jokes the older man made at his employer's expense.

Then the tables were turned as Alfred questioned Amara about her favorite foods, books, music, and films. She answered honestly, even including some childhood favorites on the lists, since there was no reason to hide them. Alfred seemed to approve of that, and promised to do all he could to make her feel welcome and comfortable.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," she said. "I'm just happy to be fed and safe."

"Still, I do want you to be at least moderately happy while here at the penthouse," Alfred told her. "You're a sweet girl, and it's nice having this place with someone in it."

Once again, Amara couldn't help but feel bad for the aging butler. After having raised Bruce Wayne into adulthood, she could see that it was hard having a large house to one's self. It was like that 'empty nest' syndrome some parents felt after their children left. Alfred's version was slightly different, but it was still there.

'_Poor man_,' she thought in sympathy. '_Why doesn't Bruce just let him retire and hire someone new_? _True, he probably won't be as trustworthy or like a member of the family, but Alfred deserves to at least have some sort of retirement after all he's done_.'

It would be rude to bring it up, however. After all, she had no idea how close both Alfred and Bruce were to each other, and if the older man decided that he wanted to remain with his charge until the very last, then who was she to argue with that?

"Here, Alfred, let me help with the dishes," Amara offered. "You've done enough for tonight."

He looked at her in surprise. "That's not really necessary, Miss, truly it's not," he said, trying to dissuade her.

Amara waved his protests aside. "It's the least I could do, especially after a meal like that." Noticing the slightly stubborn set of his jaw, she changed tactics. "But if you really want to do them, I'll wash and you can dry."

That seemed to pacify him, if only a little, and the two got to work scrubbing and drying the dirty dishes, silverware, and glasses. A small radio rested near the sink, just out of water-range, and Amara found herself humming along to a few 'oldies,' while Alfred did the same. It was the most fun she'd ever had while cleaning up something.

With a very full, almost bulging stomach, Amara decided to turn in for the night, though she might stay up to read a chapter or two before bed. Alfred wished her a 'goodnight,' and was surprised when she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"That was for a wonderful dinner, and for being such a good substitute host while Bruce is gone," she explained to him.

To her amusement, the old man seemed to blush. "You're most welcome, Miss Amara."

"It's just Amara, Alfred," she chided him. "I'd rather be your friend than anything else."

He beamed. "I would like that very much, Amara."

Yawning, she waved goodnight and headed off to her room. In minutes, she had changed into a nightgown she had brought with her from the apartment, brushed her teeth, and was armed with her favorite new book.

However, she had barely slipped under the covers before she was fast asleep.

* * *

One would think that Alfred would be used to his employer's comings-and-goings, but since he had become Batman, Bruce's sudden appearances could sometimes take a toll. Tonight, for instance, was one of them.

There Alfred was, sipping a cup of hot tea, when Bruce, in full Batman regalia, slipped through a window that Alfred was sure he had locked. Rising from his chair with a huff, he went to close the door and check the hallway to make sure Amara was asleep.

"What are you doing here, dressed like that?" he whispered harshly. "What if Amara saw you?"

"Amara doesn't know who I am behind the mask," Bruce replied in his gravely tone, the one he used as Batman to disguise his voice. "I just wanted to check up on her and see if she was comfortable."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "A simple phone call would have been sufficient," he grumbled.

Hazel eyes looked out at him from deep blackness. "I like the more personal touch," was the reply. "So where is she?"

"In her room, probably asleep, since I haven't heard a bloody thing from that room since she went in there," Alfred answered. "I could go check, if you like."

The pointed-eared cowl moved as Batman/Bruce shook his head. "No, I'll check on her myself."

That certainly surprised the older man to no end. "If you wish, sir."

Moving silently, Bruce slipped out the window and made his way around towards Amara's room along the pathway that went around the penthouse. Once he reached his destination, Bruce carefully peeked inside, hoping he wasn't catching her in a private moment.

To his relief, she was sound asleep, but the covers were kicked all the way down to the foot of her bed. He thought he saw her shiver, and frowned. She'd catch cold that way.

Using a few tools from his belt, Bruce unlocked the window and slid it open, making his way inside. A few silent steps carried him over to the bed, and with gentle fingers, he lifted the covers, pulling them up towards Amara's neck. As he did so, Bruce tried not to take notice of the fact that her nightgown had ridden up above her knees, exposing a good amount of leg.

With Amara safely tucked in and warm, he turned to go, making it all the way to the window before he heard someone call out to him.

"Batman?"

He turned, silently cursing himself for waking her. For years he had trained to be like a shadow, and here he had woken a sleeping young woman. Bruce felt like slapping himself for being so clumsy.

"I'm sorry I woke you," he apologized, using his gravely tone.

Turning to face her, Bruce saw Amara's mussed hair, slightly glazed eyes, and rumpled nightgown, and had to conceal a smile. She was rather cute that way.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. Then she smiled. "Shouldn't you be out saving Gotham, or perhaps rescuing other damsels in distress?"

Again Bruce had to hide his amusement, realizing that he rather liked this woman. It was no wonder, though; he was used to being around women who only thought about their looks, who they were dating, or how much to spend while out shopping for clothes. Being around Amara was refreshing; she actually had a brain in her head, possessed some good common sense, and had a sense humor. He liked that.

Of course, he let none of these thoughts or emotions show.

"I wanted to check on you," he replied, looking down at her. "I went to your apartment, and saw that some things were missing. I then realized you had taken my advice to stay with Bruce Wayne."

Amara shrugged. "I'm alright, I guess," she said. "Although, it might take a while to adjust being here. I'm not used to living this way."

He was confused. "Living in what way?" he asked, wondering if she didn't like it at his home.

She waved a hand at her surroundings. "You know, the whole rich life. I mean, lots of women would probably give their right arm to be staying here, waited on by a butler and having a bachelor billionaire sleeping right down the hall from them."

"And you're not one of them," Batman stated, knowing where her train of thought was going.

She shook her head. "No, I'm not the sort of girl who is thrilled at being waited on hand-and-foot. I mean, it's nice and all, but I'm from a middle-class family, and am used to washing my own clothes and dishes, or at least putting them into a washer. I just don't like watching someone else do all the work when I can do it."

Amara began to nibble her lower lip. "And Alfred is such a sweet man. It makes me feel uncomfortable having him do everything for me, even though he seems to like it. I don't plan on being a burden, though, so hopefully that'll make things easier on everyone. I only intend to be here to eat my breakfast and dinner, sleep here at night, and shower, but that's pretty much it."

Bruce really didn't like the idea of seeing his guest so infrequently. He wanted to get to know her a bit better, if only to find out why it was The Joker wanted to terrify her so badly. She really didn't deserve to be the toy of a crazed murderer and psychopath.

"So, how's your night going?" Amara asked. "Busy?"

He blinked. She wanted to know how he, or rather, Batman, was doing? That was a new one. No one had ever asked Batman how he was before.

"The City has been quiet since the mob was taken down," he replied, keeping his tone low and gravely. "Just the usual thugs, muggers and the like."

"Well, that's good," Amara said with a nod. "I know that the cops are after you for some stupid reason, but you've done more good in the past year than they have in decades. Thank you."

For Bruce, it felt as though something both hot and cold had dropped into his stomach. This was one of the few times someone had thanked him for doing what he did as Batman. Bruce Wayne got lots of praise for being generous to charities, but Batman rarely received a kind word from anyone, except for Commissioner Gordon.

"You're welcome." Bruce tried to clear his throat, but decided against it. Batman did not do that sort of thing. "You should get some rest. Again, I'm sorry I woke you."

Amara waved her hand at him. "Oh, it's alright. After all, it's not often a girl gets visited by The Caped Crusader himself. I guess I should feel flattered."

She lay back down on the bed and brought the covers up to her chin. "Well, goodnight, Batman," she yawned. "Hope you sleep well."

Only when Amara was fully asleep did Bruce let a smile show. With a shake of his head, he slipped out the window and headed for his own room, fully intent on following Amara's wish to sleep well.

* * *

AN: I didn't intend to throw Bruce-as-Batman there at the end, it just sort of happened. I'm not sure if it worked or not, but I thought that, since it _is_ Bruce's house, he would probably show up there as Batman once and a while, if only when Amara was asleep. There might be more appearances of Bruce as Batman, but I'm not sure yet. We'll just have to wait and see.

Anyway, I hope that everyone enjoyed and will review. Thanks!


	6. Puzzles

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing related to _**Batman**_ and that universe. Only original characters are mine.

AN: Thank you so much to my reviewers! I never expected this story to become so popular! You guys and gals rock! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks again!

**Chapter 6: Puzzles:**

Breakfast in Bruce Wayne's house was just as wonderful as dinner had been.

Once she'd showered and dressed, Amara emerged from her room with the intent of making herself some toast and juice. Privately, she had hoped to spare Alfred the trouble of cooking for her.

Of course, she should have realized that, as a butler, Alfred had probably woken up hours before her, as was his custom. He greeted her cheerfully, then announced that Master Wayne was still asleep and would not be joining them for breakfast, which he then began to promptly serve her.

Seated once more at the kitchen's island, Amara found herself treated to something deliciously homemade: waffles with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, milk, and bacon. Normally, her breakfast was cup-o-noodles, which she wolfed down before heading out the door, or a fast-food sandwich she bought on the way to work. The only time she had waffles like this was at a diner, and only on Sunday, if she felt like splurging.

"Alfred, I really was serious when I said you'll have to start rolling me out of here if you keep feeding me like this," Amara said while putting down her fork.

Alfred winked at her. "Well, then, I'll just have to hope that you won't be angry that I made your lunch, too."

She groaned and shook her head, knowing it was useless to tell him that it wasn't necessary for him to make her lunches. She knew that he would simply argue that it wasn't a bother.

The kindly butler chuckled and held out a rather large plastic lunch container to her. It was made of soft, insulated material to keep food cold or hot, and zipped around the top. Looking at it, Amara couldn't help but wonder where it had come from. Then again, maybe there was a pile of these hidden somewhere, just in case Alfred needed to keep his own lunch handy while waiting to pick up Bruce.

Hefting the container in her hands, she was surprised at how heavy it was. There was probably enough to feed two or three people in here!

"Oh, it's nothing special," Alfred assured her. "The heavy thing is the thermos of lemonade I put in there. For lunch, I made you a roast beef sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and a bit of mayonnaise and mustard for flavor. There's a bit of potato salad I made the day before you came, and a sealed container with some leftover chocolate mousse from last night."

Amara stared at the box. "Alfred, this is way too heavy for just an ordinary sandwich, potato salad and dessert. There has to be enough food in here for two or three people, at least."

He shrugged. "Well, I thought to pack a bit extra, just in case you get hungry in the afternoon."

In spite of herself, Amara burst out laughing. "Alright, you win," she conceded. "Thanks."

When she was fully armed and ready to face the day, Amara followed him downstairs and out to the car. Quickly, she buckled herself in and settled back for the ride to work.

However, the ride to the library was anything but quiet.

Once they were on the road, Alfred brought up a subject that had to be addressed immediately, and needed much thought behind it.

"You do realize, Amara, that you can't tell anyone where you're staying," he said while turning a corner. "We can't risk The Joker finding out where you are, and word does tend to spread quickly, no matter how hard you try to keep it quiet. And once they find out you're staying under Master Wayne's roof, well…"

She could see where this was going. "A single young woman, staying in the penthouse of billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, and under his protection? Yes, I can see where the tabloids would have a field day with that. Trust me, Alfred; I have no intention of letting anyone know where I'm staying. If anyone asks about my housing situation, I'll just say I'm temporarily staying at a hotel or something until things settle down."

From his place in the driver's seat, Alfred nodded his approval. "A very good idea," he said. "Now, we'll be arriving shortly. Have you got everything?"

She did, and when the car pulled to a stop in the back of the library, Amara quickly raced inside, knowing that if Mrs. Wilson caught her coming in late, she was dead meat.

* * *

A burst of pain in his back woke Bruce from his slumber.

Grunting, he rolled onto his side and winced. No, the shoulder wasn't a good idea, either. It was still bruised from the night before, thanks to one mugger with a crowbar. Luckily, his suit was extremely impact-absorbent; otherwise his shoulder would have been shattered.

Heaving a sigh, Bruce rolled onto his front, thanking his luck that it was unmarked. Also, he would have to thank Alfred for insisting he get one of those memory-foam beds, which sank beneath his weight and made sleeping easier for him.

Speaking of Alfred, where was he? Breakfast was usually here by now, and yet all was quiet in the penthouse. What was going on?

Flashes of a sleepy, feminine face appeared in his eyes, and he remembered. "Amara," Bruce whispered to himself.

Of course; Alfred was driving Amara to work this morning. Since Gotham Library opened early, they had to have left by now. Hopefully she arrived safely.

"Guess breakfast will be late this morning," he muttered to himself.

"Not on your life, Master Wayne," quipped a familiar, cheerful voice.

Turning his head, Bruce saw his faithful friend and butler standing in the doorway. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Did you take Amara to work?"

"Gone and back again, sir," Alfred said. "Unlike you, she keeps decent work hours."

Bruce tried not to laugh, and failed. It was a long-standing joke between them, the hours that Bruce kept as a playboy and as Batman. Rising late was second nature to him, and he only woke early if he had meetings to attend at his company, of which, thankfully, there were none today.

"So, what is our guest like?" Bruce asked, picking up the nutrition drink that Alfred had made for him.

"Ah, she's a very sweet girl, Master Wayne," Alfred replied with a smile. "It's clear that she's not really comfortable being waited on. Last night she insisted on washing the dishes, though she let me dry. She also seems to enjoy my cooking, but I suspect that's either because she doesn't know how to cook for herself, or she's overworked and is forced to eat out, probably on a budget."

That made sense. Like she had said last night, Amara was from a working-class home. She wasn't used to this kind of lifestyle, and it made her uncomfortable. Alfred had done the right thing, allowing her to wash the dishes while he dried them. It made her feel as though she were earning her keep.

Bruce had seen many women in his life adjust very quickly to being served by 'hired help.' There were thousands, perhaps millions, of women who would love to be here, having Alfred cook and clean for them while they sat and did nothing.

Amara was the opposite. She had insisted on doing things for herself, or at least helping Alfred with some of his work to make it easier on him. It was so strange, but then, Bruce was used to having people do things for him.

'_Except for the Batman thing_,' he thought with a smirk. No, that was all Bruce. He highly doubted that someone else could do what he did.

And Alfred was right; Amara was a sweet girl. Bruce had been convinced of that last night, when she had asked Batman if he was having a good night, and had wished him a pleasant night of rest. The most any other woman had done after meeting Batman was give an awkward 'thank-you,' or panic and try to call the police down on him. It was nice having someone care about him while he was in his Batman persona –well, besides Alfred.

Finished with the nutrition drink, Bruce handed the empty glass back to Alfred, who proceeded to give him a plate of waffles drowning in butter and syrup. Alfred said the syrup was to try and sweeten him up a little; Bruce thought his butler was just trying to fatten him up.

Halfway through his meal, the older man coughed politely.

Bruce sighed and put down his bite of waffle. "What is it, Alfred?"

Alfred smiled. "If I may be so bold, sir, as to remind you of your offer to purchase some new clothing for Miss Thomas…"

Oh. He'd forgotten about that. "Well, if you don't think she needs anything-"

He was surprised when Alfred shook his head. "On the contrary, sir, I'm afraid the opposite is true."

Bruce sat up straighter. "Explain."

Thus far, both men already knew what had happened regarding Bruce's caretaking of Amara. Late last night, some private men Bruce had hired had gone to Amara's apartment, carefully packed up her belongings, and quietly moved everything out, leaving no trace and no witnesses to what they had done. Everything that Amara owned would be stored away until tonight, when it would be taken to the newly-completed Wayne Manor under the cover of darkness.

The only things that would come to the penthouse were her clothes, which would be brought upstairs in the guise of postal packages. The boxes of clothing would then be taken to Amara's room, where she would have to sort through it and separate what she wanted to keep here with her and what she could send to The Manor. At least, that's what Bruce thought.

"You see, sir, I went to fetch a few boxes of her clothes, just so that she could have something to wear to work tomorrow, and I couldn't help but notice that several of her belongings are a bit worn," Alfred informed him. "From what I understand, she has been in Gotham six months, but her clothes are likely from her previous job, which I believe was that of a receptionist somewhere. Not many of her things are new, and some look as though she wears them more than twice, perhaps even three times, per week."

Here Alfred hesitated. "I believe she has been saving up her money. Despite what we males think about women and clothes, Miss Thomas does not appear to be the sort of woman who spends a great deal of money on clothing. And as for her shoes, well, they are the same worn condition. I told her that you had offered to purchase new clothing for her, but she refused."

Putting a bite of waffle in his mouth, Bruce chewed thoughtfully. That was another thing that separated Amara from everyone else he had met: she didn't want him to spend money on her and buy her things. Every other woman he'd met and dated expected him to take them shopping, or sailing on his private yacht, or fly them to exotic places. If he hadn't met Amara and gotten to know her a little bit, he'd believe that a person like her couldn't possibly exist. The only other person like her had been Rachel.

Wincing, Bruce tried to push thoughts of his dearly departed love out of his mind, but that was impossible. She had been his best friend, and he'd been in love with her since they were kids together. She had known his greatest secrets, and had taken them to the grave with her. Most importantly, Rachel had said she would wait for him, until there was a day where there was no need for Batman.

'_But was she really going to wait for me_?' he wondered.

Rachel had moved on to Harvey Dent, and seemed to care a great deal about him. She also had probably not forgiven him for letting Harvey pretend to be Batman, and had often seemed more concerned about Harvey than about him.

Still, Bruce couldn't blame her for all of that. He had put his desire for cleaning up Gotham first, and had done it in a way that Rachel couldn't understand. She had wanted him to put aside the mask and do things as his father, Thomas Wayne, had done: using the money of Wayne Enterprises to make the city a better place. That was why she had become a lawyer: to do things out in the open, to be an example to people so that they would know there was someone out there, standing up for what was right.

But Bruce couldn't do that. True, he was a billionaire philanthropist as Bruce Wayne, but as a flesh-and-blood human, people didn't take him seriously. They thought him as a spoiled rich-boy who could spend millions in the blink of an eye and not care what happened to it afterwards. No one took a rich man seriously when he said he wanted to stand up for truth and justice.

As Batman, however, he was known everywhere in the city. People knew his symbol, knew that he was incorruptible in that persona. He was a 'freak in a mask,' but he was a _feared_ freak in a mask. As Batman, he had done what no common lawyer could do: he'd brought hope to the people, letting them know there was someone out there who didn't fear the mob and who believed that justice could be had. He had begun an avalanche, one that made the cops, the lawyers, and the other law enforcement officials want to actually start cleaning things up.

Rachel hadn't realized that. She had criticized him, thinking it wasn't right. She had wanted him to stop, but he couldn't. He was his father's son in the sense that he wanted Gotham to be saved, and to be safe. But Thomas Wayne hadn't been able to save Gotham doing what he did; something more had to be done, and Bruce had done it, _was_ doing it. Rachel hadn't been able to understand it that way.

Though he hated to say it, perhaps things hadn't been as good between them as he thought they were…

"Master Wayne?" called Alfred's voice.

Bruce snapped himself back to the present. "I'm sorry, Alfred, what were you saying?"

The old man looked both amused and worried. "I was saying that, if it's alright, I would like to take Miss Amara out shopping after I pick her up from work today. Perhaps even take her to your restaurant for dinner. The poor girl deserves to be pampered a bit, even if she doesn't think so."

Bruce grinned. "Good idea," he said. "Take her shopping, probably to the slightly higher-priced shops, and use that credit card I gave you for Christmas last year. You need to run up a few bills on it, and taking Amara out shopping and to dinner sounds like a good idea."

'_In fact, I might just join you_…'

* * *

Work had been another pain in the butt for Amara. Reporters from the news and papers still tried to obtain some sort of interview with her, and even the threat of all of the security guards in the building couldn't detour the greedy vultures.

Julie had tried her best to cheer Amara up, but it was difficult when trying to fend off news people and photographers. The two had taken to hiding in a back room for lunch, and shared in the delicious meal that had been prepared by Alfred, though Amara didn't tell where it had come from. She didn't need to, since Julie outwardly assumed that everything came from a local deli.

Much to her relief, Amara's day came to a rather nice end. The flow of press people slowed to a trickle, one that was easily managed by security. By the time five o'clock rolled around, Amara was able to slip away while Julie covered for her. Alfred was waiting out back in the car, and he greeted her with a kind smile as she slipped into the seat behind him.

"Another rough day, I imagine," he said. She nodded. "Well, then, it's a good thing I've arranged a very relaxing and fun-filled evening for you." He held up his hand to stop her protests. "No, no arguments, dear. Just sit back, relax and enjoy yourself."

"Considering you're driving, I don't seem to have much of a choice," she muttered as they headed into downtown Gotham.

Half an hour later, they were parked in a large structure and Alfred had handed her out of the car. Amara was about to start arguing, but when Alfred smiled and offered his arm, she sighed.

"Oh, alright," she relented. "But only as long as you tell me what you've got planned."

"Nothing special," Alfred casually replied. "Just some shopping, and then you need to find a nice dress, because you'll be having dinner at a very elegant restaurant and need to be properly attired."

By that time, he had her arm safely threaded through his, and Amara didn't have the heart to fight him. After all, Alfred had been very kind to her, and maybe he was right; shopping would probably relax her, and it might even be fun.

"But I thought men hated shopping," she weakly protested.

He patted her arm. "Not in this case."

An hour later, Amara had to admit she was having fun. Alfred had helped her choose a few pairs of work pants to wear to the library, and she had been able to find several pretty tops on sale. The two of them had bags dangling from both hands, and yet Alfred insisted she was missing something.

"Shoes," he said. "Women love shoes, and you haven't picked out a single pair yet today."

He was rather bossy for a butler, but Amara decided to humor him. She got a comfortable, classy pair of boots that could be worn on rainy days, a new set of ballet flat shoes, and finally, a new set of sneakers.

"Let's put these away before our arms fall off," Alfred joked to her while the sales clerk handed over the last bag. "Then we need to find you a nice dress for dinner, and maybe a pair of heels, too."

Knowing that it was useless to argue, Amara helped put away the packages and followed him to what could only be described as a boutique. Looking around, she knew there was no way she could fit into any of the dresses they sold here; Amara was not what you would call a slim girl. She wasn't heavy, but she was no size two, either.

A sales woman wandered over and tried to be helpful, but Amara knew what she liked, and what would work for her body type and what wouldn't. After looking at ridiculously slim dresses that she knew wouldn't flatter her at all, Amara decided that she needed one of the infamous 'little black dresses.' She told the sales woman exactly what she was looking for, and walked out of the boutique twenty minutes later, satisfied with what she'd bought.

It was dark by the time she and Alfred had finished their little shopping spree, and he insisted on taking her back to Bruce's penthouse so that she could change and prepare for dinner. Amara insisted she didn't need to go out to eat, but Alfred told her it would do her some good.

"Besides, when was the last time you ate at a five-star restaurant?" he asked.

Again, he had a point. No sooner had they arrived back at the penthouse, than Alfred dismissed her to go dress, saying he would put away her new clothes while she got ready.

It didn't take her very long. Amara wasn't the sort who wore makeup unless she absolutely had to, and tonight wasn't one of those nights. She'd worn it to Bruce's fundraising party, but that was because all of the rich, powerful, and beautiful people were there, and she had to blend in and make a good impression on them. Tonight, she'd go _au natural_.

The new black dress she'd bought was long-sleeved and went down to just above her ankles. The material gently hugged her curves and slimmed down her figure just a bit, making her look just a little bit petite. Her new black ballet flat shoes went onto her feet, and after a good spray of hairspray and perfume, she was finished.

When she was ready, Alfred led her back downstairs and out to the car, smiling as she slid into the creamy leather seats.

"Where are we going?" she asked, looking out the window at the city's night life as he drove down the busy street.

He chuckled and winked at her in the rearview mirror. "Well, to be honest, the restaurant has no real name. Those who eat there are usually rich, famous, or know certain people in order to get in."

Amara gulped nervously. "Then…how am I going to get in?"

"It's all been arranged, Miss," was all Alfred would say.

Sure enough, Alfred stopped in front of a restaurant with no name over the door, and a man in a black uniform came to let her out. He gave a polite bow and tipped his hat at her as she walked by, entering the place with a stomach full of butterflies.

"Miss Thomas?" asked a blonde seating hostess. "Right this way."

Amara tried to calm herself down as she was shown to her table, and was surprised at where the hostess led her. The table was on a small dais in the corner, and had elegant black curtains that could be drawn so that she could enjoy herself in peace.

Swallowing nervously, she took her seat, accepted the menu, and tried not to blush as the hostess actually spread the black cloth napkin over her lap for her. Did people actually eat this way?

Sighing, Amara looked at the menu and felt her eyes bug open. Although the food here looked and smelled wonderful, it was incredibly expensive. And how was she supposed to pay for her meal? Alfred hadn't given her any money, so she would probably have to resort to using one of her credit cards to pay for this. She really hoped that Bruce would be willing to repay her when her bill came.

"Hi, there," whispered a familiar voice.

Looking up, Amara felt her jaw drop. What was _he_ doing here?

* * *

Bruce really hadn't intended on joining Amara for dinner, but considering the alternative was eating alone in the penthouse, this option was much more appealing. Plus, it gave him a reason to see her in a nice dress again.

Arriving well before Alfred was due to drop off his charge, Bruce had informed the hostess about Amara's arrival, and that his guest was to be taken to one of the best seats in the house. Since he owned the place, the hostess was glad to carry out his request. He had then taken a seat at the bar and ordered a glass of scotch on the rocks, eyes focused on the entrance of the restaurant.

Then she had walked in, wearing a 'little black dress' made famous by the actress Audrey Hepburn.

Clad head-to-toe in black velvet, the dark material ended just above Amara's slender ankles, which gave him a good view of her sleek leather ballet shoes. Her curves were gently hugged by the dress, which had an appealing sweetheart neckline. Long sleeves ended just above her wrists, letting the glitter of her wrist watch catch the restaurant's candlelight.

Unlike most women, Amara wore no makeup, and her hair was barely touched by hairspray. She wore just enough to keep her hair in place, but no more than that. The look was simple, but elegant, and that spoke volumes about her. She liked to look good, but refused to attract attention the way other women did.

Once he was sure the hostess had seated her in one of the private little alcoves, Bruce finished his drink, straightened up his tie and his suit, and went to join her.

* * *

"Bruce?" Amara squeaked. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I decided to join you tonight, since I didn't have any other plans."

Now she was slightly panicked and a bit confused. "But, how did you-"

"How did I manage to get in here?" Bruce's mouth pulled up into a playful grin. "I own the place."

Oh. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Of course you do." That certainly explained everything.

Of course he owned this restaurant. That would explain how Alfred managed to get her in here when most people probably had to wait weeks to get reservations. There was probably a waiting list to get _on_ the waiting list!

Bruce leaned on top of the perfect white tablecloth and looked at her expectantly. "So, what looks good to you?"

Amara bit back a sigh. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Another knife flew through the air, embedding itself into the wall with a dull thud. Snapping out a few curses, The Joker went over and retrieved the half-dozen knives and daggers he had thrown there in his anger. His goons had recognized his mood and had fled hours ago. They probably wouldn't be back until dawn.

Fingering one of his daggers, The Joker looked at the light reflecting off of the surface of it and licked his lips. His pretty little librarian had somehow vanished in the night, leaving behind no trace of where she had gone. All of her belongings had been moved out, her apartment paid for according to its contract, and the space had gone up for sale, all of it done faster than The Joker had thought possible. There wasn't even a forwarding address left behind for her!

Growling, The Joker let the dagger fly, watching in satisfaction as it drove a good inch or two into the wall. The plaster wasn't the hardest material, but it wasn't that soft, either. It was a good throw.

What was even more frustrating was the fact that Miss Amara Thomas had disappeared right under his nose. It didn't help that he hadn't assigned any of his goons to watch her building at night, thinking she'd merely spend the evening hours sleeping, just like any fool who worked those grueling 8-hour days.

That was twice he'd underestimated her. He wouldn't do it a third time.

Twirling a knife with his fingers, The Joker tried to think. Normally, he hated plans; making plans meant that if they failed, you were always disappointed.

And he hated being disappointed.

This time, though, some advanced thinking was in order. He wanted to find Amara, and so far, the only way he knew how to do that was through those who lived in her building. No doubt they had seen something interesting the day she vanished, and if they refused to talk, well…

The Joker could be very persuasive.

* * *

AN: Whew, nice long chapter this time around. I hope it made for some good entertainment for everyone. Please don't forget to review; I'd really appreciate it. Thanks!


	7. Dinner and Dreaming

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: In a review, someone asked why Amara acted sort of dim-witted in the previous chapter when Bruce showed up. The reviewer didn't like the way Amara asked how Bruce managed to get into the restaurant, and I suppose I should explain things a bit more thoroughly.

First, I should mention that Amara is sort of mentally and emotionally lost right now, considering she's been forced out of her apartment, is living with Bruce Wayne, being hunted by the Joker, and the whole "lifestyle-of-the-rich-and-famous" thing is still new to her. As a girl unaccustomed to the privileged life that Bruce leads, Amara hasn't quite come to terms with the idea that someone she knows can walk into an exclusive restaurant and sit down as casually as Bruce did. That's why she wondered how he got in there. In her past life, her friends were middle-class types, and couldn't get into Bruce's restaurant even if they tried. Amara is still in shock at the sudden rise from a do-it-yourself lifestyle to a rich-and-powerful one, and the change hasn't really hit her yet.

Also, in regards to the reviewer's question about The Joker: I hope that this chapter answers it.

In the meantime, I'm hoping that this story isn't moving too slowly for everyone. I might try kicking it up a little in the future, but I would like to know what everyone thinks about the pace so far. Thanks for reading, and please review!

**Chapter 7: Dinner and Dreaming**:

Eating out with Bruce Wayne was something most girls in Gotham would give their right arm for. Amara, however, was not 'most girls,' and was currently wondering what his motives were for dining here with her tonight.

The evening had started out well enough. Bruce had encouraged Amara to get anything she liked off of the menu, assuring her that it was 'on-the-house,' so she didn't have to be shy about ordering. She reluctantly gave in and chose a seafood risotto, since it sounded good, and would have stuck with just water to drink, had it not been for Bruce ordering a bottle of champagne for them to share.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a drinker," she had said, hoping to deter him from ordering the expensive beverage.

Bruce had smiled and said she deserved to have an evening with some of the best this place had to offer. "It's the least I could do," he insisted.

Amara gave him a smile in return. "Trust me; you've more than made up for it, considering, well, you know." She purposely left out the tidbit of her living at his penthouse. After all, one never knew if someone was listening or not.

He grinned and the two of them watched as a waiter popped the cork on the champagne bottle, Amara giving a start and a laugh when the stopper went flying. She watched in fascination as the young server skillfully poured two glasses, not one of them foaming over from the bubbles created by the air meeting the sparkling liquid.

As she put her glass to her lips, Amara froze. "Is this a date?" she suddenly asked suspiciously, wondering if maybe Bruce was doing this to get on her 'good side.'

Bruce actually had the nerve to blink at her. "What makes you say that?"

Amara rolled her eyes. "Oh, you mean besides us eating alone together, cut off from the rest of the restaurant by a thick curtain, and you paying for the meal? It kind of gives it away," she sarcastically remarked. "Plus, the champagne is usually an indication of it being a date."

Chuckling, he shook his head. "No, it's not a date; more like a pair of friends eating out together. No strings attached, I promise."

That really didn't reassure her, but at that point, their food arrived, so she said nothing. Instead, she focused on how delicious the risotto was, and how fresh the seafood tasted. They had to have several fish tanks in the kitchen for the shrimp to taste like this!

As Bruce ate his way through his steak dinner, Amara was surprised to hear him start to talk about his company and what sort of projects they were starting. Technological development and advances were what Wayne Enterprises was known for, and although most people would have found the topic fascinating, Amara listened with one ear and merely nodded or gave an acknowledging sound at the appropriate time.

Not that she intended to be rude or anything. It wasn't that she was disinterested in the wonders Bruce's company could produce; it was just that instead of talking about the technology itself, Bruce simply prattled on about how much money each contract was worth, and how hard his company had been forced to bargain in order to get those contracts.

Needless to say, this made for some very dull conversation, and Amara found herself bored in minutes. She didn't care how much money Bruce made, though she doubted he'd believe her if she told him that.

'_It's probably a topic all of his former dates and girlfriends pretended to be interested in when they went out with him_,' Amara thought, trying her hardest not to roll her eyes. No doubt those girls all put their acting to the test as Bruce talked about the millions he made at work that day_. 'I'll bet those women were mentally keeping a tally on what gifts they could persuade him to buy them before they broke up_.'

Letting her mind drift, Amara's thoughts turned towards a surprisingly different topic: Batman.

His visit to her room the night before had been shocking, but welcome. It was nice to know that he cared about her enough to check and see how she was doing, even going so far as to track her down to Bruce Wayne's penthouse. Batman had probably intended to just see if she was okay, then leave without her even knowing he'd been there.

'_Guess I blew that for him_,' she thought, hiding a smile.

Well, Amara could sometimes be a rather light sleeper, and when she'd felt someone pull the covers over her, she thought it was Alfred, coming to check on her and see if she needed anything. Instead, she had gotten the distinct privilege of having a caped visitor tucking her in. What else could she have done but call out to him when she saw him leaving?

And for a man wanted by the cops, Batman was a rather nice guy, even if he wore a mask. Of course, she had already figured him to be a decent person, considering he'd saved her from The Joker and taken her home in his car. Batman had even gone so far as to give her advice, saying she would be safer staying with Bruce, and he'd been right.

'_Hmm, I wonder if he's single_?' she wondered in spite of herself.

No, that was silly. Like it was possible to date the infamous Dark Knight! What would they do on their first date, anyway? Fight muggers or bank thieves? No, thanks!

'_But he was very sweet, coming to see me like that_,' Amara thought. '_And he was rather nice to talk to about everything_.'

Maybe it was a bit bold of her to tease him and ask how he was, but she figured that there were few people in Gotham who seemed to care about the wellbeing of the city's greatest hero and protector. Her theory was confirmed when she had seen the surprised look in his eyes at her concern for him.

She couldn't help but feel bad for Batman. Hunted by the police, probably for crimes he didn't commit, and yet there he was, fighting crime and saving people in trouble. How did he do it?

"I'm sorry, am I boring you?"

Amara jolted back to herself. "What? Oh, sorry," she stammered, blushing as she reached for her champagne glass to cover her reddening cheeks.

Bruce chuckled. "No, I'm the one who should apologize. I guess it's an old habit, droning on about business at dinner. I didn't think, and I'm sorry."

She smiled and set her glass back down. "Well, I guess I would be more interested if you talked about the new devices your company has invented instead of how much money you made with it. I suppose making millions is a great thing, but I would love to know what it is you're getting paid for, not what you are making on it."

He seemed surprised at that, but also amused. "You really are different from the other women I spend time with," Bruce said, leaning back in his seat. "All most of them care about is my trust fund and whether or not my stocks are up."

"Then maybe its time you hung out with a different crowd," Amara joked, her tone light and teasing.

Bruce chuckled. "You might be right. I really ought to find some people who like to have fun and loosen up."

They finished their meal with a more appealing topic of conversation, mainly that of the status of Gotham Library. Bruce wanted to know if his donations were being put to good use, and Amara assured him that his money was well-spent.

"New books, DVDs, music, and audio book tapes are coming in constantly, and that keeps the patrons coming in, too," she said as a waiter took away their empty plates. "Parents are thrilled there's a nice, safe, quiet place to take their children, and the kids themselves are happy they have a place to study and read their favorite books."

A waiter came to ask if they wanted to see the dessert tray, and Amara was ready to refuse when another man came and presented the display of the evening's specialty sweets. She had thought her stomach full, but the delectable sight of cheesecake, chocolate cake, tiramisu, and a sample of lemon custard served over fresh fruit was irresistible.

Seemingly on its own, her hand pointed to the delicate crystal goblet that held the custard and fruit. It looked too delicious to refuse. Bruce ordered the cheesecake and a cup of coffee.

Looking at her watch, Amara questioned, "Should you be drinking coffee this late? Won't it keep you awake? You don't want to be up all night, do you?"

He laughed and assured her it was alright. That was when their dessert arrived, so Amara simply shrugged it off, focusing her attention on the glass cup before her.

"So, what were you thinking about earlier? When you were ignoring my talk about my company, I mean," Bruce inquired, scooping up a forkful of cheesecake.

Amara blushed, wondering if she should tell him. Would he laugh at her? No, Batman had vouched for him, so it should be okay, right?

She swallowed a mouthful of lemon custard and strawberries. "Truthfully, I was thinking about Batman."

Bruce's fork hung in midair. "You were thinking about Batman? Why?"

The look on his face made her laugh. "Well, it's only natural that a girl think about the man who rescued her," Amara chuckled.

"I guess so," he said, though a bit doubtfully. "What were you thinking about, regarding Batman?"

She shrugged. "Just that I don't understand why the police are so set on arresting him. I mean, he's a hero, and they want to lock him away. It seems wrong for everyone in the city to hate him so much when he's done such good for Gotham."

Sitting back in his chair, Bruce gave her a disbelieving look. "Well, they did say he's killed people, some of them cops. Don't you think that should be reason enough to try and capture him, preferably before he does something like that again?"

Amara snorted and shook her head. "From what I've heard, the police have a lot of corrupt cops in their midst, and I think those people who Batman allegedly 'killed' were probably knocked off by the mob to cover their tracks."

She put a spoonful of custard into her mouth, savored the zesty taste of the lemon flavor, and swallowed. "I've heard tales of those crime bosses having people taken out because they weren't useful anymore, or because they just didn't want to pay them for their work. I don't believe for one minute that Batman had anything to do with it. Besides, I heard it was cops who were supposed to take the late D.A., Harvey Dent, and his girlfriend, Rachel Dawes, home the night they were murdered by The Joker, so it wouldn't surprise me if the cops were blaming Batman in order to get their own people out of being blamed."

A skillful twist of her wrist scooped up the last of the strawberries and custard. "Besides, you can bet a guy who goes around wearing a mask and kicking some serious bad guy butt is always going to get the blame for when things go bad. I have a feeling that, if Batman disappears for good and the cops can't handle something, they'll just blame Batman for not being there."

She ate the last bit of dessert and sighed, putting down her spoon. "He's done such wonderful things for this city, like giving the people hope for a better future. I can't help but feel sorry for him."

* * *

It was strange, knowing that he had Amara's support as Batman. She thought he was doing actual good as the Dark Knight, and believed him to be innocent of the crimes the police accused him of.

Although, Bruce had to wonder how she knew about the corrupt police officers in the city.

"How did you find out about the dirty cops?" he asked, keeping his tone light. "I can't imagine anyone discussing that sort of thing at the library."

Amara smirked. "You've never heard of female gossip, have you, Mr. Wayne?" she said, lifting her glass to drink the last of her champagne. "When I first moved here, a few of the friends I made at the library warned me not to trust too many police officers. They also told me how to live and survive on the streets. One of their first welcome gifts was a can of mace that I always keep on hand."

Bruce smiled. Rachel had always traveled with a stun gun in her pocket. A lot of women probably did in this town.

"So you see, I've been warned," Amara was saying. "Corrupt cops, mobsters, unsafe streets, etc. That's why I live in the better part of town, as far away from the trouble as I could get on my salary. I'm just glad the library pays for half of my rent, or else I'd be pretty strapped for cash, living where I live."

Living where I live, she had said. Bruce couldn't help but feel a bit guilty at that point. Amara missed her apartment and doing things for herself. She was an independent young woman, forced to give up everything she had worked hard for because of one psychotic man in clown make up.

He looked down at his coffee, his heart going out to her. Starting over or picking up the pieces of a broken life was difficult, as he well knew. Hell, he was still doing it, more than twenty years later.

"Bruce, are you alright?" A hand waved in front of his face. "Bruce?"

He jerked back to the present. "I'm sorry, you were saying?"

Amara was giving him a worried look. "I asked if you were okay. You sort of looked upset about something."

Again, he felt guilty. "Only that you had to give up your life because of one madman's actions."

Once more, Amara surprised him, this time by putting her hand on top of his arm. "It's alright, Bruce," she softly told him. "Yes, I'm angry that this has happened, but I know that I can find a new place to live once he's finally locked up again." She pulled her hand back. "In the meantime, I'm going to try and live my life as best as I can."

"But aren't you afraid?" he asked. "I know that a lot of other women would be, in your place."

"Yes, I'm scared, but I can't begin living in that fear," she firmly told him. "If I do, I'll end up being a prisoner in my own home. I can't do that, and I won't do that. I have a life, and I intend to live it."

As he quickly changed the subject, talking with Amara about the local ballet company putting on a production of '_Sleeping Beauty_,' Bruce silently promised both himself and Amara that he wouldn't rest until The Joker was back behind bars.

In the meantime, Alfred would have to undergo some wardrobe and driving route changes when it came to chauffeuring his guest to and from work.

* * *

It was really beginning to annoy him, the way people never had the answers he wanted. The worst part was that he couldn't even threaten the truth out of them, since there wasn't anything for them to tell.

Pretty little Miss Thomas was still MIA, and The Joker was getting impatient. Usually a few threats, assaults, or bribes could get him the information he wanted, but for some reason, these tactics weren't working this time.

And he hated it when things didn't go his way.

The idiots living in the same building as Amara had no idea where she'd gone, or who had come to take away her stuff. Oh, a few had been up late enough to hear the sounds of furniture and boxes being moved, and had looked outside to see what was happening.

"I saw a few men in jean overalls, hats, and white shirts going in and out of her place," an old woman had said to one of his cronies. "Seems the smartest thing a girl like her could do is get out of Gotham as fast as she could, seeing as she's been in the hands of The Joker."

Several others living in that hallway had seen the same thing, and agreed with the old hag. Most of the tenants thought it best that Amara get out of town, if only for her own sake.

That still left him without any idea where Amara had vanished to. No one had bothered to get her address, not even the landlord, and her apartment was already up for lease. Considering the bribes he'd put up and the threats his goons had made, The Joker knew that no one was lying about any of the news they shared.

But then there was the fact that Amara was still going to work every day.

Looking at his wall, The Joker licked his lips and grinned. Every square inch of it was covered with pictures of Amara coming and going to the library, so many that they were already spilling over onto a second wall. Most were black-and-white, but some were in color.

Those were his favorites.

In one picture, she was wearing a dark red knit sweater, black boots that went up to mid-calf, and a black skirt that showed a nice bit of leg. Her hair was flowing loose, some of the brown locks seeming to float in the breeze that had blown through just as the picture was taken.

'_Hmm, sweet, tempting, and just a bit teasing_,' he thought with a grin. He liked seeing her in red.

She was getting into a black unmarked town car, and the sight of that car made The Joker's good mood vanish. That damn car –she was always seen getting into it by his hired goons, but none of them had been able to find out much about it. Worst of all, there were probably hundreds of cars like that driving around town. Rich folks, diplomats, and possibly even what was left of the mob had cars like that, all to hide who they were and to keep from being tracked. True, some of the makes and models varied, but it was hard to track a vehicle without plates, and when it blended it with so many other fancy, rich-people cars, it only made things difficult.

Thus far, all The Joker had been able to do was narrow the facts down a bit. Amara was clearly staying with someone rich enough to afford an unmarked car, one with tinted windows so that no one could see inside. He couldn't even get an accurate description of the driver, since his men were always too busy trying to avoid attention by passersby. Most of the photos regarding the car's driver were blurry, and relying on a thug's description of someone was like asking a duck to paint a masterpiece; it couldn't be done. Hell, the duck was smarter than most of his men put together!

Humming slightly under his breath, a knife danced between The Joker's fingers as he considered his options. He could easily have Amara brought here to him, but that had already been done when he'd kidnapped her. He hated repeating himself.

A burst of maniacal laughter burst from his lips as the perfect idea sprang into his mind. Why didn't he think of it before? It was so obvious!

The Joker rushed for the door of his room and threw it open. "Boys, I need a bright shiny car," he ordered. "A nice stylish one for a criminal of my class and reputation, got it?"

He paused in thought. "And make sure it has a large trunk and back seat."

They all nodded their understanding and raced to do as ordered. Knowing them, it would take at least a day or two to find one that met his needs.

In the meantime, there was quite a bit of planning to do.

* * *

AN: Don't forget to review and let me know what you think! Thanks!


	8. Safety and Rumors

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing related to _**Batman**_ and that universe. Only original characters are mine.

AN: I thought about tossing in a bit more "quality time" together for Bruce and Amara, so I did it in this chapter. It might seem a bit quick, but since Bruce is such a nice guy and they are sharing the same apartment/penthouse, I felt it only natural that they share an evening or two at home. I hope that's okay. Please feel free to leave a review after you read. Thanks!

**Chapter 8: Safety and Rumors:**

Immediately following his dinner with Amara, Bruce decided to enact a few new measures in order to assure his guest's safety. Staying up all night in conference with Alfred, they both came up with what they hoped were effective ideas.

Fearful that The Joker would be watching the library, Bruce had asked his friend and butler to begin changing the route he took when driving. By randomly switching which streets he took, The Joker and whoever he had watching the library would have a difficult time tracking them. With so many wealthy city folks on the streets, one black town car looked much like another. It only made it easier to get lost in a crowd of cars, especially in traffic.

Another change Bruce made was that of Alfred's wardrobe. The older man would soon start wearing sunglasses and hats when taking Amara to and from work, mostly to keep him from being recognized by anyone who saw him.

Though this was all for Amara's safety, Bruce knew that he also did it to protect his closest and most trustworthy friend. He'd already lost Rachel to The Joker; he refused to loose the man he considered a second father. He had even asked Alfred to let him hire another driver, one who could act as a bodyguard for Amara, but Alfred wouldn't hear of it. He had grown fond of her already, and wanted to be the one friendly face she could always count on seeing during this turbulent time.

Even though he had faith in his butler's skills, Bruce knew that his tactics wouldn't last very long. If the Joker had found out where Amara was working – and Bruce had a major feeling that he did – then there was a very good chance that the madman would soon act accordingly. Bruce didn't know when or where The Joker would strike, but he had a gut feeling that it would be soon. Madmen really didn't have a whole lot of patience.

Meanwhile, Amara accepted these changes to her life, but just barely. When the topic was brought up the next morning, her first reaction had been a flat-out refusal, followed by several short bursts of arguments between her and Bruce. Alfred had stood by and watched, observing them as one would a tennis match, his eyes drifting back and forth in amusement as the two exchanged words (and even a few hand gestures).

Finally, after a lot of muttered curses and complaints, Amara broke down and accepted these little adjustments. Bruce had heaved a sigh of relief, but inside, he knew that he'd enjoyed fighting with her as much as Alfred liked watching it. It gave him a sort of thrill and satisfaction he rarely felt outside of being Batman.

That didn't mean that she let things go over smoothly, however. In regards to Alfred, Amara had the same idea as Bruce, namely that of hiring a different driver to take her to work. Both men had been surprised at her suggestion, but even though it was technically two against one, Alfred still managed to pull the rug out from under them somehow, and retained his place as chauffer to Amara. They didn't know how the sly old fox had done it, but done it he had, and now she was stuck with him.

But in spite of their arguments over her safety, Bruce found himself liking his new houseguest. Normally, he was a loner, and had been ever since his parents had died. True, he was around a lot of women, but only to keep up the appearance of his playboy image. He only trusted a handful of people, and those included Alfred, Lucius Fox, and Rachel. Though he didn't really feel that level of trust with Amara, Bruce felt himself growing a bit more comfortable around her, and liked the idea of spending time with her.

Tonight came his chance to do just that.

It was the day after their dinner together, and Amara had come back tired, strained, and rather grumpy after a day of avoiding the press. Alfred, of course, hovered over her, pressing comforting hot chocolate into her hands as he tried to persuade her to eat something, his attitude a mixture of a protective father and a mother hen.

Although Bruce lacked a great deal of stress and responsibility when it came to running his company, he still knew what it was to have a bad day. On more occasions than he cared to count, there had been bad business meetings, disastrous deals with other companies, and certain times where bidding for a contract turned up some very exhausting evenings. Amara clearly needed some time to unwind and relax, particularly a night which didn't involve her leaving the penthouse.

While his guest went to take a nap before dinner, Bruce decided to confer with Alfred on the matter, since his butler knew more about Amara than he did. Alfred's advice was to have a meal of simple comfort food, followed by a chocolate dessert.

"If there's one thing I've learned about women, sir, it's that they love chocolate or ice cream." He paused. "Sometimes both, if the mood suits them."

The menu they decided on was a savory pot roast with potatoes and tomatoes, and homemade chocolate pudding with whipped cream for dessert. When Alfred persuaded her to come to the table instead of eating in her room, the look on Amara had been priceless.

Set up at the smaller dinner table were two places, one at the head and the foot. Between them sat the steaming roast, and Bruce watched in amusement as she took her seat, closed her eyes and inhaled.

"It's been ages since I've had pot roast," Amara told them as she held her plate out.

Alfred smiled as he served her first. "Your mother made it for you often then?"

She chuckled. "No, my dad's the cook in the family. Last I heard, my brother was taking after him in that department."

Amara saw the surprised look on Bruce's face and laughed. "What, you think women should be the only ones allowed to cook? Trust me, if either I or my mom made dinner, we'd all suffer from food poisoning. It's best to leave it to people who know what they're doing, or who are able to actually learn to do the cooking right."

Alfred nodded his agreement and looked significantly at his employer out of the corner of his eye. Meanwhile, Bruce tried to avoid his butler's gaze by taking a drink of his wine, silently praying that Alfred wouldn't bring up any embarrassing parts of his childhood.

Unlike the night previous, Bruce steered their conversations away from his business and its profits. Instead, he tried to find out as much as he could about Amara, such as her tastes in movies and books, and how she liked it in Gotham so far.

Thanks to the wine that was being served with dinner, Bruce was able to get answers to nearly all of his questions. Amara had said that she wasn't much of a wine connoisseur, but it was a sweet red vintage, and after a while, she seemed to enjoy it, though she refused to have more than three glasses. Still, those three glasses were more than enough for what he wanted to know.

Bruce discovered, through very careful questioning, that Amara had become a librarian after becoming annoyed with her position as a receptionist for a rather large corporation. Her benefits had been few, her boss frustrating, and her co-workers were so lazy that they pressed their work onto her. The administrative assistants in higher positions had foisted their menial tasks onto Amara's shoulders, and after six months, Amara decided to try taking courses at the local community college, intent on pursuing the job of a librarian.

Most libraries required someone with two years of schooling and some experience, but her town was small, as was their library, so when she applied for a small, part-time position, they'd accepted her without question. As a government worker, Amara would get fairly good pay and benefits, and a pension after she retired, so she gladly took the job and quit her old one with no regrets.

It was not long after she had started her new job that Amara received word from her mother's friend, Mrs. Rockwell, about Gotham Library needing another librarian. The offer made to her was too good to pass up.

"Besides," Amara said before putting another bite of roast into her mouth, "the pay was easily twice that of what I was already getting, and when she told me they would be paying half of my rent, I couldn't refuse such a great opportunity."

The truth was, she had also wanted to get away from her small town and its dull atmosphere. Amara had always liked the big city, claiming there was so much to do and see there, and she liked being able to travel short distances to shops, restaurants, and work.

"Of course, I never imagined that life in Gotham could be so…exciting," she said with a forced smile.

Bruce tried not to wince at the hint towards his party and what had occurred there. Instead, he turned their conversation towards Amara's tastes in film, music and books.

Much to his surprise, he found himself impressed with her love of books. Although most people didn't know it, Bruce was fond of reading in his spare time, and he liked hearing Amara list the different genres that she had read from. Science fiction, fantasy, and classic titles all poured from her lips as she joyfully chatted about how her love of books carried over into her career. She even read young adult books that she found impossible to put down, despite being more than a decade over the recommended reading ages.

"As long as you enjoy reading it and it makes you feel happy, then it doesn't matter what age it says on the shelf or the cover," she told him almost philosophically. "All that matters is your interest in it."

The same could be said about Amara's taste in film. Childhood classics and modern musicals were only part of the list, and almost in spite of his better judgment, Bruce blurted out an invitation for her to join him for a movie in the den. Amara hesitated, but agreed.

Alfred, who always had a mysterious way of knowing what would happen next, appeared in the living room/den with a tray laden with snacks and drinks of all kinds. As Bruce turned on the television, Amara selected a can of soda and a bowl of snack mix. Bruce happily hogged the remote, though he had to constantly keep it out of Amara's reach since she wanted to see what was on before they popped in a DVD.

"Come on, I've never channel-surfed a television with more than five hundred channels before," she whined. "Can't I just do it once, so I can brag about it to my brother? _Please_?"

Laughing, he'd struggled for – and won – the rights to the TV, and put in his favorite comedy film.

For Bruce, it was one of the most relaxing evenings he'd had in years. Long ago, he and his parents would watch movies this way, but after their deaths, Bruce had put aside his childhood memories and traditions, instead turning his thoughts to how to obtain justice for not only his parents' murders, but also for the entire city of Gotham.

Tonight, all thoughts of justice, crime fighting, and capes were pushed aside, replaced by a movie, a bowl of popcorn, and soda. Beside him, Amara laughed, giggled, and chuckled along with him, and Bruce couldn't help but savor the warmth that it brought. It had been too long since he had felt so free and so normal.

Sadly, that freedom couldn't last forever. By the end of the movie, Amara was yawning and Alfred magically appeared from nowhere, saying it was time the young lady got to bed.

"After all, tomorrow is a work day," he said with a wink as he led her out of the room.

Sighing, Bruce turned off the television and stretched, mentally checking which parts of the city he would have to visit today as Batman. The outskirts had been neglected for too long, and he had no doubt that there was quite a bit of 'cleaning up' to do.

* * *

Yawning, Amara stretched and sighed, her eyes glancing around the room as the sun poured through the large windows of the library. In the corner, a group of children was being read to by a volunteer, and scattered around the room were two dozen patrons skimming through the shelves in search of something old or something new to read.

'_I love my job_,' Amara thought with a smile as she turned towards her computer.

A hand suddenly gripped her shoulder, forcing her to turn around. "Julie?" she whispered. The look on her friend's face sent shivers down Amara's spine. "What is it?"

"I need to talk to you," Julie murmured to her.

Thinking that something horrible had happened, Amara quickly followed the tiny blonde to one of the back rooms and shut the door behind her.

"Jewels, what in the world-?"

She was cut off by Julie rounding on her, hands on her hips. "When were you going to tell me?"

Amara blinked at her. "What do you mean? Tell you about what?"

Julie actually frowned at her. "About you dating Bruce Wayne, of course," she snapped.

She felt her jaw drop. "What? I'm not dating Bruce Wayne!"

"Oh, come _on_, Amara," Julie said, her anger quickly replaced by exasperation. "I heard it through the grapevine that you went to that fancy restaurant of his, _and_ that he wined-and-dined you on some of the best the place could offer, so don't play innocent with me."

By now, Amara was bordering between laughing at the idea of dating Bruce, or going home and strangling the man himself for causing this whole situation. She should have known that having even a simple dinner with him would wreak havoc on her life, but with her world already turned upside down, Amara hadn't been thinking clearly about such a thing.

'_And now I have to do some damage control_,' she thought angrily.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Amara took a deep breath in order to calm her nerves and fend off what she knew would be a migraine.

"Jewels, I didn't tell you I was dating Bruce Wayne because I'm not dating him at all," she said while trying to think quickly. "Yes, I had dinner with him at his restaurant, but only because he insisted on trying to apologize for what happened at his party. He treated me to a very nice meal and dessert, as well as some champagne, but that's it. There's nothing happening between us."

Julie still looked as though she didn't believe her, which hurt Amara more than she would admit. "Really, that's it, huh? What about you both sitting together, all secluded in a corner behind closed drapes? If that doesn't scream 'romance,' I don't know what does."

Something inside Amara snapped. Clutching her hand into a fist, she whirled around and slammed her fist into the door with a loud bang, startling Julie into silence.

"How dare you!" Amara cried out, furious. "How dare you judge and criticize me! I tell you the truth, and you believe whatever half-baked pieces of gossip you hear more than you do me! Of course, what do you care that my life is a living hell right now, thanks to The Joker?"

During her rampage, Julie was looking more and more ashamed, but Amara was far from caring by this point.

"You're supposed to be my friend, Julia, and you're supposed to believe me when I tell you things," she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks as she vented. "What do you care if I want to have one night out on the town with a guy who simply wants me to forget that there's a makeup-wearing murderer and psychopath after me? All Bruce wanted to do was give me _one single night_ of carefree fun, and all you can do is see what isn't there and blame me for not telling you about it! Well, thanks a lot, Jewels, you've done a hell of a job making my life worse off than it already is!"

Tears pouring from her eyes, Amara headed for one of the staff's private bathrooms and locked herself in, crying until there was nothing left in her to weep out.

An hour later, Amara managed to pull herself together and put her looks back in order. The cold water from the sink felt good on her face, and helped sooth her swollen eyes. With her nose still a bit stuffed up, she took a deep breath and went back out to the desk, thankful that she looked relatively normal. Any lingering redness around her eyes could be blamed on exhaustion, and if she looked a bit pale, that too could be blamed on her being tired and sleep-deprived.

To her surprise, Mrs. Wilson was waiting for her, a look of concern on her thin, older face. Grey eyes stared out from behind black square glasses frames, and Amara wondered if something had happened in order to make the chief librarian pay a call on her.

"Amara, please sit down," the woman said, her voice soft and kind. "You're pale as a sheet."

Obeying, Amara took her usual chair behind the desk as her stomach began to clench. "Is there something I can help you with, Mrs. Wilson?" she asked nervously.

The woman actually smiled. "Actually, I was wondering if I could help you with something," she said. "It just came to my attention that Miss Julie Hanson possibly said something to distress you in some way. If it will make things easier for you, I can move her to the night shift."

Night shifts at the library could be rather nerve-wracking, given how dark the building could be after it was locked up for the day. Strange noises, shifting shadows and rather odd things could happen when no one else was around, and Amara really didn't want that for Julie.

"Oh, it's alright, there's no need for that," Amara hastily assured her boss. "I'm fine, really I am."

Mrs. Wilson clearly wasn't convinced, but nodded just the same. "Alright, but if this continues, I won't hesitate to act as I see fit." She smiled at Amara's worried expression. "No, dear, I won't fire you. Too many patrons like having you here, and I've no doubt that another library in town would hire you the moment they found out you were free. I can't risk all of our patrons, young and old alike, following you out the door."

She sobered quickly. "Therefore, if Miss Hanson continues to upset you, it will be her I will let go."

Amara swallowed as her boss vanished upstairs to her office. Would she really fire Julie over this? She hoped not. Julie loved it here at the library, and even though they were in the midst of a fight, Amara would feel terrible if she were dismissed.

Sighing, she turned back to her desk and went back to work.

Much to her surprise, the rest of the day went relatively normally. Well, except for the appearance of a few persistent members of the media, but security handled them quite easily.

In the realm of normalcy, Amara was happy to help eager children check out their books, praise a few teenagers on their choices of literature, and recommend some new arrivals to a few helpless adults. Her afternoon was spent in relative peace, even though she had another headache thanks to her 'chat' with Julie.

As she gathered her things to head off for the night, Amara was surprised to find her friend standing close by, an apologetic smile on her face as she inched closer.

"I'm sorry about earlier," the tiny blonde whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I should have known that you wouldn't lie to me about anything like that."

She slowly stepped forward and put a hand on Amara's shoulder. "And you were right. You do deserve a chance to forget about the craziness that is your life right now. I can't imagine how it feels, wondering if you'll turn the corner and find either The Joker or a camera in your face. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like that. I'm sorry."

Amara nodded. "Thanks, Jewels," she said. "It means a lot to me, hearing that from you." Seeing her friend hesitate, she sighed. "What is it now?"

A blush tinged Julie's cheeks. "Amara, where exactly are you staying? I mean, with that freak out there looking for you, I know you're smart enough to try and hide yourself away until this whole thing blows over. So where are you living now? A hotel or something? Maybe a new apartment the library is renting out for you?"

Offended that Julie would ask such a prying question, so soon after being forgiven, Amara was sorely tempted to chew her out one more time. However, there was a frightened look in her friend's eyes, and she realized that Julie was only asking out of concern for her safety.

Closing her eyes, Amara sighed. "Jewels, you know I can't tell you that," she said, rubbing her forehead. "I can't risk The Joker finding out where I'm staying. I'm sorry."

She heard a rustle beside her and a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I understand," Julie whispered. "Go home, wherever it is, and get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow, and maybe we can do lunch, huh? I'll even buy."

Both women chuckled, knowing that Julie almost never bought lunch for anyone. Going Dutch was her favorite motto whenever she went out.

"Okay," Amara agreed. "Lunch tomorrow sounds good. And you are totally buying!"

Waving goodnight, Amara headed out the back door, thankful for the darkness that covered her escape from the building.

* * *

From the rear of his new car, The Joker grinned broadly as he watched his little librarian swiftly descend the rear steps. He particularly liked the black ballet shoes on her feet; they made her look adorably delicious. And that red blouse with that tight black skirt…hmmm…

"Should I follow them, boss?" asked the goon in the driver's seat.

The Joker licked his lips in thought. "No, I've seen enough of her for now. Let's get back to the hideout. I've got some things I need to take care of before tomorrow."

The goon looked in the rearview mirror. "What's going on tomorrow, boss?"

His employer chuckled, a mad sound punctuated with gasps of delight. "Oh, let's just say that I'll be taking a little field trip," he said with a grin, "One that will hopefully prove very interesting and…amusing."

* * *

AN: Lots more fun coming! Please be kind and review! Thanks!


	9. Close Encounters

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: More Joker, Batman, and some slightly naughty things in this chapter. Hope you all enjoy and review! Thanks!

**Chapter 9: Close Encounters:**

Pulling on his cape and cowl, Bruce couldn't help but smile. It had been another evening in with Amara, and Bruce had the feeling that he could quickly become addicted to staying at home at night, armed with a remote in one hand, a can of soda in the other, and Amara sitting next to him, laughing at the blooper reel of whatever film they were watching.

Earlier tonight, she had arrived, per usual, drained and ready to collapse onto a couch. More press people, she had explained, and an argument with a co-worker had made her day as stressful as the ones before.

Feeling for her, Bruce, who had come to greet her at the door, immediately took her arm and led her to the couch in the living room. Seeing how she leaned back with closed eyes and a contented sigh, Bruce had been relieved when Alfred appeared, a silver tray in his hands with a cup of hot chocolate perched on top of it.

Thus started another relaxing evening of dinner, a movie, and fun.

After accepting the hot cocoa, Amara had sipped half of the beverage before going to her room to change. In the meantime, Bruce made sure to select something she might like to watch, thankful that Alfred had offered a verbal list of Amara's favorite films. He hated to think what would happen if he chose the wrong movie.

Dinner was chicken in a light cream sauce, garlic mashed potatoes, and sautéed green beans, much to Amara's delight. Chicken was her favorite, as were garlic potatoes. However, she nearly fainted with joy at the sight of the homemade chocolate brownies Alfred produced, hot from the oven and the pan. The vanilla ice cream on top only made her happier, so much so that she kissed the old butler on the cheek in thanks, to Alfred's embarrassment.

Finally, it was time for the movie, which was the classic film, _**Star Wars**_. Amara watched it with relish, and Bruce did his best not to laugh as she mouthed some of the lines along with the actors. Unfortunately, he couldn't completely hide his amusement. When Amara suddenly turned to look at him and saw the broad smile on his face, she threw a handful of popcorn at his head and stuck her tongue out.

Her childish antics made him laugh and retaliate, only he threw pretzels, which was his closest weapon at the time. A food fight erupted after that, and soon the living room was a mess of popcorn, pretzels, and jelly beans (though where those had come from was a mystery).

The two of them only managed to come back to reality when Alfred walked in, saw the mess, and sighed, drawing their attention towards the doorway.

Glancing around the room, Amara immediately looked guilty, and offered to help with the clean up. Alfred had smiled, quick to assure her that it was alright and that he could do it, but she insisted. It was her fault, she said, as she had started the whole thing. The least she could do was help clean it up.

Amused by her stubbornness, Alfred agreed, and at the sight of two others cleaning up what was half of his mess, Bruce joined in less than a minute later. Between the three of them, the living room was spotless in no time, and by then, Amara was exhausted and more than ready for sleep.

"Maybe _you_ can afford to sleep in until noon tomorrow, but if I'm late, my boss will kill me," she said with a yawn. "I'll see you two tomorrow."

When Alfred assured him that their guest was asleep, Bruce had rushed to his room to change into his armor. Strangely, it felt good putting it on, as though a part of him had been missing until now. For weeks he had been fighting the urge to don it once again, but hadn't had the reason to do so until the night of his party, when Amara had been taken.

Adjusting his cowl, Bruce winced. He knew that he shouldn't blame himself for what had happened to her, but he couldn't help it. If only there had been more security, or if he had ordered the elevator to stop letting people on at a certain time, she wouldn't have been taken by the Joker.

"Don't do that, sir," Alfred firmly said from beside him.

Bruce slowly turned his head. "Do what?" he asked in Batman's gravely tone.

A gentle hand patted him on the shoulder. "Don't blame yourself," the older man replied. "I saw that look in your eyes, the same one you got when your parents died and from when Miss Dawes passed on. You're blaming yourself for Miss Amara's abduction, and you shouldn't. None of what happened in the past was your fault."

That was easy to say, but not so simple to feel. For more than twenty-five years, Bruce had blamed himself for not doing anything when his parents had been murdered. Recently, he'd been beating himself up for not figuring out that The Joker had swapped the locations for Harvey and Rachel. Now it was his fault for being overconfident in the fact that his penthouse was so isolated from the rest of Gotham City. Because it was situated at the top of a relatively secure building, he'd thought that no one would be able to sneak up here.

But the Joker had done just that, and not just once. Twice he had made his way into Bruce's home, and twice he'd managed to threaten people that Bruce cared about right under his nose. What man wouldn't feel responsible for such things?

"You're doing it again," Alfred chided in his fatherly voice. "Stop it. You told me that Amara doesn't blame you for what happened to her, so don't you start, either. Let it go."

In spite of himself, Bruce quirked a smile. "Thank you, Alfred," he said. Just as he was about to head out, he heard Alfred clear his throat. "What is it?"

"If I might say so, Master Wayne, perhaps it might be a good idea to stop living in the past and look towards your future." Alfred gave him a pointed look. "The loss of Miss Dawes was a tremendous one, but I do not think that she would want you to spend the rest of your life dwelling on what might have been."

He put a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Perhaps you should look in front of you and think of what might _be_."

Black clad fingers gripped the ones already on his shoulder. "Thank you, Alfred. I'll see you later."

Pausing, Bruce turned around. "Keep an eye on Amara, would you?"

"That I will, sir."

Reassured, Batman vanished into the night.

* * *

Yawning, Amara watched as Julie brought in the last of the returns for cataloging. It was one of those slow days at the library, and both women were desperate for something to do.

"Darn sunny days," Julie said in a joking voice. "Everyone wants to be out and about town, not here in the library with a book."

For them, rainy days were when they were sure to get at least one or two dozen patrons, mostly those who were brave enough to get through the cold weather and rain. Parents liked to bring their kids in for some quiet reading time, and all sorts of adults came to unwind with a book and something hot from the coffee bar by the front door.

Today, though, was a bright and cheerful one, so nearly everyone was likely out shopping, playing, or enjoying the sun in their own unique way.

'_Meanwhile, I'm stuck in here, bored to death_,' Amara thought with a sigh.

Oh, well, that couldn't be helped. And even though quiet days could be very dull ones, she really should welcome them, since they weren't something that happened very often.

"Hey, Amara?"

She turned to see Julie standing there with a shameful look on her face. "Uh, oh, what did you do now?" Amara sighed.

"Well, you see, one of the new books accidentally got sent to the basement yesterday. You know, where all the rarer, more valuable texts are?"

Ah, the infamous library basement. It wasn't exactly a basement, though, nor was it under the building. Rather, it was a separate, one-storey building attached to the library through a spacious hallway. It had no windows and a lot of good air circulation to keep the place dark and dry, preserving the precious books stored there. It was referred to as the 'basement' because of the darkened conditions, and the way the shelves tended to creak gave the place a rather creepy feel. Those on the library's staff avoided it out of fear of the dark rooms, shadowy aisles, and odd noises. Julie was one of those people.

The tiny blonde looked at her friend with pleading green eyes. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to, well, you know…"

Amara sighed. "Okay, I'll head over there. Give me the info and I'll take a look."

With Julie minding the desk, Amara heaved a sigh of relief as she headed off, happy to finally have something to do besides sit and wait for patrons to come in. Besides, she liked the archives, and loved checking over the shelves to see what the library had there.

The walk was pleasant, since it was inside, and beautiful. The Gotham Library was known for its marble floors and pillars, stained glass windows, and the beautiful wood railings and tables that decorated the second through fourth floors. The first floor was kept basic, with very soft and comfortable reading areas, since it housed the children's section and the young adult books. Everyone knew how hard youngsters could be on furniture, so the tables, chairs, and lamps were all sturdy things that could put up with a good beating and still come out whole.

Traveling through a white marble hallway, Amara pulled out her security card and slid it through the scanner. When the light turned green, she pushed the door open, her fingers clutching the printed location of the mislabeled and misplaced book. It took her little time to find the aisle it was on, though narrowing down the shelf was a bit more difficult.

Finally, she found it. With an 'a-ha' of excitement, her fingers reached for the text, only to have them grabbed by a hand clad in an eerily familiar purple glove. Turning, her entire body went cold at the sight next to her.

* * *

Licking his lips, The Joker scanned his prey as she stood there, frozen in fear. In her pretty maroon silk blouse and black skirt, she looked delicious. He made a sound like a purr and a growl in his throat, a sound that seemed to make her tremble.

"Hello, beautiful," he drawled with a broad grin. "So nice to see you again."

Amara's mouth dropped open as though to scream, but surprisingly, she didn't. Instead, she gave him a look of confused horror, as though she couldn't figure out what to do next.

"How did you get in here?" Amara suddenly blurted out, brown eyes wide in terror.

The Joker couldn't help but laugh. With a flick of his fingers, a switchblade appeared out of his sleeve, the wickedly sharp blade gleaming in the dim light of the room.

"What, you think a tiny little security lock is going to stop me from getting what I want?" he said while flashing the blade in front of her face.

Amara's eyes went wider, and he could feel her quivering under his touch. "And what _do_ you want?" she whispered.

He could feel his grin getting wider. "You know, I'm not sure yet. Hell," he said, waving his knife before her face, "I don't even know why I find you so appealing!"

He scanned her body and licked his lips again. "I guess I'll have to take you home and find out, huh? What do you say we go for a ride?"

* * *

Amara suddenly felt as though she were going to be sick. Somehow, The Joker had found her, and she could almost see what her future would be if he abducted her again.

This time, she might not make it out alive.

"What do you say we head out of here, my spicy little temptress?" he said, pressing the knife against her chin. "Of course, I'm not going to give you much of a choice, but I'd like to hear what you manage to squeak out before I haul you back to my lovely little abode."

Well, the thought of screaming her lungs out briefly entered her mind, but Amara knew that would be a bad idea, especially when a knife was being pressed to her throat. Still, she ought to do _something_!

'_Eh, what the heck_.'

Instead of screaming, though, Amara lifted up her leg and kneed him in the gut, savoring the sound of his pained grunt and gasp for air.

To her surprise, he recovered quickly. But what shocked her the most was that, in place of an angry threat or a knife digging into her flesh, The Joker was laughing!

"Oh, I knew I liked you for a reason," he said, the knife in his hand now pointing towards her eyes. "Saucy…I like saucy women. You're _so_ much more fun to, eh, _play_ with."

Quicker than she thought possible, he had her pinned to the wall, the air rushing from her lungs as she hit the shelves of books. A sharp pain shot through her body, and for a moment, Amara thought she saw stars. However, the next few words he hissed in her ear made those stars vanish instantly.

"How 'bout a kiss?"

She stood there and stared at his painted face. From behind the blackness that circled them, brown eyes stared greedily down at her as his tongue lashed around the rim of his scared, red-painted mouth. The white clown makeup was caked in some places, and in others it was thin or cracked where the skin was wrinkled or had been missed.

'_Oh, god, where's Batman when you need him_?' she thought, eyes staring up at the ceiling in a silent prayer, hoping that someone, anyone, would come and find her before it was too late.

A gloved hand reached up and grabbed her face, forcing her lips to pucker. The Joker smirked. "Come on, darling. Let's see if you taste as good as you look."

He was leaning in closer when the echoing sound of footsteps caused him to stop.

"Amara?" called a familiar voice. "Amara, are you here?"

The Joker's head twisted so quickly on his neck that she expected to hear an audible snap. His crazed eyes stared in the direction of the voice as he began chewing his lower lip in thought. She could only imagine what was going on inside that twisted mess that was his mind.

* * *

An interruption was something he hadn't counted on.

Thanks to a bit of snooping around by his goons, The Joker had formed a little way to get his target alone. With a little work by his hired tech genius, a little 'hiccup' had been put into the library's computer, causing a new book to be put into the isolated and secure archives. Sooner or later, Amara would have to go in there and retrieve it; after all, it was her job.

Everything had gone to plan. The man stationed in the library had seen Amara head into the archives, and The Joker had slipped in ahead of her, using a key card programmed by his little computer geek. It had been easy to find and corner her there…so easy…

It would figure that just as he was about to get lucky, some idiot had to come in here and mess it all up.

For a moment, The Joker contemplated killing the person responsible for ruining his good time, but reconsidered. Who knows, someone might come looking for this idiot too, and then everyone would know where he was.

And he wasn't ready to make a grand reentrance into the world yet, not after what The Bat did to his previous hideout. That sort of thing had to be done with a very big bang.

"I'll see you later, beautiful," he muttered, to the terrified woman in his grasp. "But before I go, I wanna know something."

Quick as a flash, The Joker bent down and enveloped her mouth with his, the tip of his tongue licking her lips from one side to the other and back again. She squirmed, trying to free herself, but with his body pressing hers into the walled bookshelves, escape was impossible. And the way Amara was moving was beginning to do some very delicious things to certain parts of his anatomy…

Pulling away, the crazed criminal grinned at the disgusted look on Amara's face. "Just a little sneak peek for you, babe," he said. "Now that I know how nice and sweet your mouth is, there's no way I'm letting you escape me again. Next time I see you, you're mine."

He blew her a quick kiss and vanished between the tall aisles of books, knowing that next time he'd have to be faster at abducting her.

* * *

Falling to her knees, Amara buried her face in her hands and tried to figure out what had just happened.

'_First the guy kidnaps me and tries to kill me, then he stalks me and tries to snatch me again_!' she thought, her mind whirling in circles. '_Worst of all, he kisses me_! _Why does he want me, anyway_?'

She highly doubted that he was in love with her; The Joker couldn't love anyone or anything. He might find her intriguing enough to become obsessed with her, but what he found so interesting about a librarian was beyond anything Amara could understand.

"Amara?" called that warm, soft voice again. It was male, and one that she recognized.

"Bruce?" she softly called out, wondering if The Joker was still somewhere nearby, waiting to strike. If he was, she'd have to get both her and Bruce out of there, fast.

Before she could get up, however, her unintended savior came through the doorway, and when he saw her on the floor, he rushed to help her up.

"Amara, what happened? Are you alright?" Gently, Bruce pulled her hands away from her face and tilted her head back to get a good look at her. "Oh, my god."

Magically producing a handkerchief, he began wiping at her face. "He was here, wasn't he? The Joker came here."

She nodded as he helped her to her feet. "He found me somehow," Amara said in a shaky voice. "Well, I actually expected him to, sort of, but I was mostly hoping that he'd forget all about me. He cornered me in here, and then…"

Bruce pulled her into a tight hug. "Did he hurt you? He didn't, _you know_, did he?"

Amara shook her head. "No, but he did manage to force a kiss on me. I don't know why, but he's obsessed!" She looked up into kind, sympathetic hazel eyes. "Why is he doing this, Bruce? I'm just a librarian, I'm nothing special."

To her surprise, he smiled at her. It wasn't an amused or teasing smile like the ones he usually gave her whenever they talked, nor was it a flirtatious one. If she didn't know better, Amara could have sworn that it was a smile of fondness and affection.

Then, quick as a flash, it was gone. In its place was a worried and angry frown, which, in her opinion, made the billionaire look even more handsome than he already was.

'_Whoa, hold on there_,' she thought to herself. '_That little run-in with The Joker must have been even worse for your mental health than you thought, if its got you thinking about Bruce like this_.'

"We have to go, now," he was saying. "I don't know if he's still here, but with his track record, I wouldn't put it past him to try something nasty. Let's go. My car's waiting outside."

Amara shook her head, which seemed to surprise him. "I can't leave," she said. "I'm working, and if I go without telling anyone, I'll get in trouble."

It sounded like a petty excuse, but it was still true. She couldn't just vanish from work without saying anything to anyone; it could get her fired. Plus, Julie would never forgive her for leaving the main desk in her care, since she hated front desk duty.

They were making their way back to the main building when she realized something. "How did you get inside the archives? You need a special key to do that!"

Bruce reached inside his coat pocket and produced a key card that matched Amara's. "One of the perks of being such a generous donor to the library," he said with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry I asked."

Once they were in the main building, Julie took one look at her friend and the man accompanying her, and gaped. Amara sighed and reached out to close Julie's mouth.

"Jewels, I need to head home early," she said. "Tell Mrs. Wilson that I had an…unfortunate encounter in the archives, and that Mr. Wayne has generously offered to drive me home."

Julie studied Amara's face and went pale. "Oh, god," she said. "Red and white paint…please don't tell me that _he_ was here! How'd he get in?"

Bruce stepped in. "That's not important," he said firmly. "Right now, you need to call Commissioner Gordon and have the police check the building for explosives. They also need to see if The Joker left any clues behind. I doubt that he did, but it never hurts to look around."

The blonde nodded. "I'll let Mrs. Wilson know." She reached for the nearest phone.

Meanwhile, Bruce turned and looked at Amara's pale and strained face. "Come on, let's get you home."

* * *

In spite of what had just happened to her, the ride back to Bruce's penthouse had been an amazing experience for Amara. She really should have known that, as a billionaire, he probably owned a dozen fancy and expensive cars, but that thought really didn't hit her until she saw his incredible silver Lamborghini sitting in the parking lot.

She'd been breathless when he lifted the door for her, and swore that her stomach had been left behind at the library when he floored it out into the streets of Gotham. Never in her life had Amara ridden at such speeds, except maybe for the night Batman had saved her, but this was very different. People, buildings, cars, everything around them flew by in a blur, and she was afraid that they would get caught by the cops. It was a both exhilarating and tense ride.

Before she knew it, they were back at the penthouse, and without a cop in sight. Relieved, she followed Bruce up to the top of the building and was greeted by a very surprised Alfred.

"Problems at the office, Miss?" he said in a gentle tone.

Without waiting for an answer, he rushed her off to the living room, listening as Amara recounted what had happened in the archives. Bruce had gone off to contact the police commissioner, and just as she was relaxing with a cup of cocoa spiked with alcohol (for her nerves, Alfred said), he returned with both good news and bad.

"So far, they've found no explosives anywhere in the archives," he said. "They found the card he used to get into the building in a nearby alley, and fresh tire tracks. He must have pulled out really quickly when he left."

Amara nodded. "So everyone and everything is okay, right?" she pressed. "I can go back to work tomorrow?"

Bruce shook his head. "No, I don't think that's a good idea. Actually, I was thinking in the complete opposite of that direction. I think you should take a little vacation."

* * *

Much to Bruce's dismay, Amara flat out refused to head anywhere that wasn't inside Gotham's city limits. She said that there was no way she was going to leave, since she had no where to go.

"And I'm not spending any money on a trip," she told him. "And don't you dare say you'll pay for everything. You've already done enough by sheltering me here with you, buying me clothes, and taking me out for an expensive dinner. I won't have you spending anymore money on me."

Frustrated, Bruce had told Alfred to look after her and gone down the elevator, pretending to be heading out for a drive downtown. In reality, he was going to do something much sneakier than that, but hopefully it would be enough to persuade Amara to leave town, if only for a few days.

Slipping into his hidden chamber, Bruce waited until it was dark outside before pulling on his Batman suit.

Amara had just settled into bed when she heard the large balcony window swing open. Turning, she almost fell off the mattress at the sight of Batman standing there like a living shadow as he looked down at her.

"You know, if you keep visiting me like this, people will think we're dating," she said, her voice half teasing.

Since the room was dark, she couldn't tell if he was smiling or not, but from the way he slightly tipped his head, Batman was most definitely amused, if only a little.

"I heard about what happened today," he said as he came up to the side of her bed. "Are you alright?"

Amara sighed and shrugged. "I'm okay, I guess. A bit shaken up, but I'll live."

The tension that suddenly filled the room made her flesh creep. She could feel Batman's eyes on her, so she tilted her head to gaze up at him. He was pretty tall, not counting the pointed ears of his cowl.

"I think it would be best if you left town for a while," he told her. "I spoke to Mr. Wayne, and I agree that you should go someplace that isn't inside Gotham City. Maybe if you're out of The Joker's sight, you'll be out of mind. He might forget you if he can't see you."

Hmm, that idea hadn't occurred to her. It was a good one, but Amara really wasn't one for running away. Of course, these were pretty extreme and unusual circumstances…

She looked up at his face and was surprised when he reached over and switched on a small light by the bed –he'd never done that before. Now, even with a bit of light from the lamp, Amara could get a better look at him. She had seen him up close before, but that had always been when it was dark. In the light, she was able to do a much closer inspection of the infamous vigilante.

'_Wow, he's hot_,' she couldn't help thinking.

Tall, and no doubt muscular under that armor. He was probably very strong, too, considering how he'd gripped her waist with both hands and lifted her down from his car, almost like she weighed no more than a small child. Not to mention the air of mystery he carried, as well as the mask. Needless to say, all of this did nothing to squash her blooming crush on him.

Amara instantly felt her cheeks flush and quickly turned her eyes away, focusing on the bedspread instead of her late-night visitor. "I don't have anywhere to go, nor the money," she softly told him. "And I don't want to ask Bruce to pay for it; he's done so much for me already."

"Perhaps if he went with you, you would be more willing."

She jerked her head up. "What?"

But he was already gone.

* * *

Now that Bruce had planted the idea in Amara's head of him going with her on a small 'get-away,' he felt more confident that she would do as he and Batman suggested. Besides, if he accompanied her, he'd be able to make sure she was safe and having a moderately good time.

'_Liar_,' whispered a small part of his mind. '_You just want to get to know her better_.'

This was true, but mostly, Bruce just wanted to protect her. Besides, what billionaire didn't go out on an expensive vacation once and a while with a lovely young woman? The opportunity was just too good to pass up.

* * *

AN: Aw, some soft feelings on Bruce's side, though Amara seems to be more interested in his other persona. Oh, well, maybe this vacation will change her mind? Wait and see!


	10. Getting Away From It All

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing related to _**Batman**_ and that universe. Only original characters are mine.

AN: Oh, my gosh, thanks so much for your wonderful reviews! Yes, Amara is insane for not wanting to vacation with Bruce, but remember, they've known each other for about a week, so you can see her dilemma here, right? Okay, maybe not, considering how hot he is, but for our poor librarian, vacationing with a stranger is a tad unusual for her, so, you know. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter and will review!

**Chapter 10: Getting Away From It All**:

After the library had been thoroughly combed over by the police, the bomb squad, and their dogs, Commissioner Gordon himself called up Bruce's penthouse and asked to speak with Amara. The head of the Gotham Police Department had been told where she was staying by the billionaire himself, and knew that he would have to keep her location secret.

"Mr. Wayne is right about no one else knowing where you are presently living, Miss Thomas," Gordon said to her through the phone. "As much as I hate to say it, The Joker may be insane, but he's smart, too, and if there's a more dangerous person than a mad genius, I can't think of one."

His instructions for her were exactly like Bruce's and Batman's: she needed to get out of town for a while. "Not permanently," Gordon quickly reassured her, "and not if you don't want to, of course, but for a week or two at least. Go someplace that'll distract you from what's happening here. It doesn't matter where that is."

With three men –four, if you counted Alfred– working against her, Amara knew she had no choice in the matter. With a billionaire, his butler, a masked vigilante, and a police commissioner telling you that you'd be safer someplace else, it was probably a good idea to do what they said.

And speaking of billionaires, it was good to have one on your side when calling in for some last-minute time off. Mrs. Wilson always required a month's notice before signing off on requested vacation time. However, since Amara had the library's foremost benefactor in her corner (and on the phone with her), she was able to get the next two weeks off with little trouble.

"But I don't want you making anymore calls on my behalf," she told Bruce when they both hung up with Mrs. Wilson. "You've already done more than enough for me."

Of course, Amara knew he wouldn't listen. He never did, and she had the strangest feeling that he liked breaking –or, at least bending– the rules for her. Using his influence over the library had been a blatant display of just how powerful and important Bruce Wayne was in Gotham City, and Amara couldn't help but feel guilty at having him use it. It wasn't her style to have someone perform such a huge favor because she needed time out of town.

"Don't worry about it," Bruce assured her, putting his arm around her shoulders in a comforting manner. "You more than deserve this. Not only did you manage to escape The Joker once, but you also went back to work the very next day, a time when most women would have been barricading themselves in their apartments, swearing never to come out again."

"He's right, Miss," Alfred said as he entered the room, a silver tray bearing a pitcher of milk, three empty glasses, and small cucumber sandwiches in his hands. "You were very brave and stubborn to go to work so quickly, and to insist on staying there after another dramatic encounter with that madman. You truly deserve some time to think of yourself and your health, both mental and physical."

Dang it, she knew they were right, but her family had always taught her what they considered to be good work and life ethics. According to her mom and dad, a good worker always did their best and worked their hardest at everything. They were only supposed to call in sick when it was a serious illness or injury, and never played hooky just because they could.

To Amara, taking this vacation was going against everything she had been taught and truly believed in. Unless she was very sick with a cold or the flu, she never missed work, always coming in on time and leaving just a few minutes after it was time to go. Time off for vacations tended to be booked far in advance, and she worked hard because she hated it when people didn't pull their weight. Too many times had Amara seen others take advantage of the benefits of their jobs, and she had seen how it had angered her parents when their coworkers did the same thing. It was a lesson well-learned, and with that lesson came the fact that if you worked hard and put yourself forward, a person could move up from where they had started. Suddenly jumping into a vacation went against her deeply rooted work ethics; however, these were unusual circumstances, and adjustments had to be made for her own good.

'_Besides, it's been a while since I've gone somewhere for fun_,' Amara thought as she took a seat on the couch.

Putting a cucumber sandwich to her lips, she noticed Bruce taking a place on her right while Alfred took a seat across from her, which was surprising. The older man almost never sat with them for any reason.

With her gut telling her that something was up, Amara was tempted to put the food down, but when her stomach complained of being empty, she took a bite of the little sandwich instead. It was extremely light, the bread and cucumber sliced so thin it weighed little more than a roll of paper. The refreshing taste helped clear her head and mouth, and was very tasty, so when she had finished with one, she helped herself to another, her eyes darting between the two men.

"So," Alfred said, his own eyes looking from his employer to her. "I suppose what we should do next is decide on where you two will be going."

"Three," Amara corrected him. "I want you to come too, Alfred. I won't leave you here in an empty place while Bruce and I are off somewhere else. It doesn't seem right."

From his seat beside her, Bruce nodded. "She's right. I don't want to leave you behind, either, so it'll be the three of us going. But _where_ we're going is the main question."

"Should we go to another continent?" Alfred asked. "Europe, perhaps, or maybe Asia?"

Amara shook her head. "No, nowhere overseas," she said firmly. "That's something fugitives do, or what I always imagine them doing. How about something close by, or at least inside the U.S.?"

The three of them went quiet with thought.

There were many places in the U.S. that Bruce could take Amara, but only a select few that were far away from Gotham and where he was sure that she would have a good time.

New York sprang to mind, but he didn't like the image of a large city bringing back thoughts of Gotham. All other large and impressively cold cities were immediately eliminated from the mental list he was building.

'_Nowhere too cold_,' he thought, '_but maybe someplace warm and tropical would do_.'

California came to mind, but it was too polluted in the cities and the areas around them, and far too bustling for the rest and relaxation that Bruce had in mind. There was Florida, too, but he didn't like the fact that it was famous for its hurricanes and swamps.

'_Hmm, tropical, warm, blue water_,' he mentally ticked off in his brain. Where did that leave?

Of course, why didn't he think of it before? His parents had bought a place there after they had gotten married, but almost never used it. He himself had never gone, but it had a reputation of being a beautiful and ideal place to vacation.

"We're going to Hawaii," Bruce said out loud.

* * *

Amara's jaw dropped. "We're _what_?" she deadpanned.

Bruce chuckled. "We're going to Hawaii," he said, repeating his previous statement.

"Why there?" She was still trying to imagine how incredibly expensive it would be to travel to and stay at the island state.

Meanwhile, Alfred was nodding. "Oh, yes, I'd almost forgotten," he quipped. "Mr. Wayne's parents purchased a rather nice summer home there, but never really got the chance to go back. It's still there, and waiting for you, sir."

"But Hawaii?" squeaked Amara. "Isn't that a bit, well, far away? Like, on the other side of the country? What about the plane tickets there?"

Bruce looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. "We won't be buying plane tickets," he slowly replied, as though she weren't that bright.

She rolled her eyes. "Then how will we get there, hitchhike?" she snapped. "And stop acting as though I'm as dumb as the girls you usually talk with."

Bruce grinned. "Sorry," he apologized. "But we don't need tickets. Why would we when we can take my private plane there?"

* * *

Bruce knew all of this was moving too quickly for Amara to process. The dazed and confused look in her eyes assured him that she was very much off-balance, her brain struggling to process all of what he and Alfred had just finished planning out for their departure.

They would leave under cover of darkness, with Alfred driving them to the airport, where there would be someone at the tarmac to take the car back to the penthouse after the three of them had boarded the plane. They would then fly nonstop to Oahu, where they would get a car and Alfred would drive them to the Wayne Hawaiian home.

"I'll be studying maps of the area on the way there, and seeing what there is for you to do around the islands," the older man had told Amara, who was looking more lost every minute.

What happened after they settled in was to remain up-in-the-air. No matter what, though, Bruce would be there to make it happen.

"Swim with dolphins or whatever you want," he said as he escorted her to her room to pack. "Do all the tourist activities, and if you want to try something different, let me know. It's all open to you."

And he was going to do them all, too.

Yes, it was risky for him, as Batman, to leave Gotham for too long, but with his alter ego still a fugitive on the run from the cops, it might be a good idea for him to get away, too.

'_Besides, the police are getting better at handling the usual crime, and I doubt The Joker has anything planned, since he hates that sort of thinking_.'

It was time for Batman to take a little time to himself and enjoy it with someone who needed to forget that terrible things could happen to good people. Who knows, he might get to know Amara a bit better in the process, and how could he not enjoy something like that?

* * *

Hovering over her bags, Amara looked around at the scattered clothes and wondered about this new turn in her life. Honestly, how does a girl go from living alone and eating frozen dinners to housing with a hot billionaire?

'_And now I'm going on vacation with him_!' she thought, shaking her head in amazement.

If her parents knew about this, Amara knew she'd never hear the end of it. Her mother was old-fashioned, the sort who thought that a woman should only vacation with men who were either her spouse or her relatives. Though her father was a bit more liberal, he was also very protective of his little girl, and would likely have tried to strangle poor Bruce for suggesting the idea of them going on vacation together.

Glancing down at the bed, she couldn't help but sigh. '_I'm going to travel with a billionaire in his private plane_,' she thought in disbelief. '_Then we'll be going to a private home that his parents bought years ago. Julie would be screaming with joy at this opportunity. Meanwhile, I'm trying to figure out how to get out of it_!'

Amara hadn't been joking when she'd told Bruce that he'd already done too much for her. Shelter, clothes, food, safe transportation to work everyday; what more could she ask for? And now he wanted to take her on an all-expense-paid trip to Hawaii?

Hawaii! What person hasn't imagined traveling to the tropical paradise, a place filled with exotic animals, plants, and fruits? Palm trees were something she had only seen in magazines or expensive hotels, where they were almost always in pots in the lobby. Plus, the food in Hawaii was supposed to be amazing.

'_And it's going to be very warm_,' Amara remembered. Well, it was in a tropical area, after all, and where else would palm trees grow?

Her problem now was finding clothes that were suitable for those temperatures. Gotham City tended to be rather dark, cool, and intimidating, thanks to the tall buildings that stood everywhere. It could get warmer in summer, but with the shade provided by the skyscrapers, it was hard for the warmth to reach the streets themselves.

Looking at the clothes scattered around the bed and the rest of the room, Amara knew it was a hopeless cause. Everything she had brought from her apartment and that she had purchased lately were all work-related, and those that were meant for a weekend or casual outings would not be a good idea to wear in hot weather.

"Are you all packed, Miss Amara?" asked a cockney, English-accented voice.

Turning, she gave Alfred a hopeless look. "Uh, no, not really," she said, her voice apologetic. "All of my warmer weather clothes are stored away, so I don't have anything to bring."

The old man chuckled. "No worries, Miss," he assured her, "I'm sure that Master Bruce can arrange to have some clothing waiting for you when we arrive in Hawaii. It should be no trouble."

"I thought I heard my name," called a voice from the doorway. "What are you two saying about me this time?"

Amara giggled. "We weren't really talking about _you_," she said with a smile. "Alfred was just saying that since I don't have any summer clothes, I would have to buy some when we get there."

Bruce took a quick look around the room, his eyes widening in surprise at what he saw. "Wow, we really do need to take you on a serious shopping spree when we get back," he muttered. "Before that, though, we need to get you some clothes before we board the plane later tonight."

She felt herself go pale. "Tonight?" When had that been decided on?

"It's best if we leave as soon as possible," Bruce told her. "We need to get out of Gotham before something else happens. I want you safely away from here before the sun comes up."

Meanwhile, Alfred had a thoughtful look on his face. "I suppose we could stop at a few inexpensive stores as we head to the airport," he said. "The clothes they carry might not be the best, but if you get one or two cheap shirts, they should last until we can make it to the shops in Oahu."

Bruce shook his head. "I don't want us stopping anywhere. Have one of our most trusted people pick up a few shirts in Amara's size, preferably in light colors, and have them meet us at the airport."

Alfred nodded, quickly leaving the room to carry out his orders.

Bruce turned towards her. "Pack whatever else you might need," he said while heading out the door. "We've got at least three or four hours, so take your time."

Left alone with her thoughts, Amara felt her mind begin to spin. Bruce had people to do things for him? That was too weird to even think of! She really couldn't imagine someone standing around, waiting for orders from their boss at all hours of the day. Didn't it get annoying for them? What if a call came in at midnight or something?

Shaking her head, Amara began creating a mental checklist of things to put into her waiting luggage.

* * *

Everything was packed just as the sun was sinking below the horizon. Bruce was taking enough to fill a small pack, but knew he would be coming home with much more than that. Oahu was full of the best designer shops the fashion world had to offer, and it had been a while since he'd shopped for himself. Besides, he wanted his wardrobe to match Amara's, and Bruce had every intention of being with her as she shopped until she dropped.

When full darkness fell, Bruce and Alfred secured the penthouse and escorted Amara downstairs, each of them holding one bag that contained enough to get them through perhaps one or two days. Since the flight was going to be at least nine to twelve hours long, their present clothing could last until they landed. When they did, they would change into clothes more appropriate for the tropical weather before heading out. After that, they would all shop for new attire.

The ride to the airport was silent and rather tense. Amara stared out the window and watched the buildings pass, her eyes full of worry as she clenched her hands in nervousness. Feeling pity for the poor girl, Bruce reached over and took one of her hands in his. Startled, she turned, her fingers unintentionally gripping his even tighter.

"Oh, sorry," she said, trying to let go.

Bruce simply firmed his hold on her hand. "It's okay," he soothed. "Calm down. We'll be out of the city within a couple of hours, and out of the state within three. Don't worry."

Amara gave him a shaky smile. "I can't help it," she whispered. "What if The Joker decides to go after Julie next, just so he can try to find out where I've gone?"

He easily had the answer to this. "The Commissioner has his most trusted people keeping an eye on Julie and her place," Bruce said in his most assuring tone. "If The Joker tries anything, they'll move in and take her to a safe location. Everything that needs to be covered is being done right now."

Though that didn't seem to completely sooth her nerves, it was enough to make her relax just a tiny bit. However, as the car continued on its way, Bruce couldn't help but notice that she didn't let go of his hand.

* * *

When they arrived at the airport, Amara felt her stomach leap, then drop to her feet. A private plane awaited them, and after Bruce assisted her out of the car, she realized she hadn't released his hand.

Blushing, she quickly did so. "Sorry," she muttered as Alfred came forward to take her bag.

As the older man carried his own bag and Amara's aboard, leaving Bruce carrying his own, another gentleman emerged from the plane and came forward. He was tall, African-American, with white hair and a warm smile.

"Mister Wayne," he said in a kind voice. "Everything is in place. I doubt anyone will know you're gone for at least a few days, and if anything comes up that needs your attention, I'll call you up immediately."

Bruce smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Lucius," he said, taking the man's hand. "Make sure someone from our security team is keeping an eye on Miss Julia Hanson, would you? She's a volunteer worker at the library, and Miss Thomas's friend, so I'd really appreciate it."

"Will do," Lucius replied. "Have a good trip, Miss Thomas."

In minutes, he was in the car and driving away, leaving her standing on the tarmac with her mouth open in astonishment. Beside her, Bruce chuckled and reached over to close her gaping jaw.

"Who was that?" she quietly asked.

"Lucius Fox, an old and trusted friend of the family," Bruce told her. "He'll make sure that Julie is looked after, and that no one realizes I'm gone for a while. That way we aren't connected in any way, and no one will suspect anything. Now, are you ready to get onboard? The crew's probably getting impatient to take off, since we don't have that big of a departure window."

She gave a squeak of alarm as she ran for the steps leading up to the doorway. Alfred reached down and helped her up into the plane, giving her a wink of encouragement as he ushered her along.

The first section of the plane seemed designated for the flight crew and the flight attendants. There were comfortable chairs for the flight attendants, microwaves, a small refrigerator, and other things that were to help make and serve refreshments. It was also fairly spacious, almost like a small room instead of half a cubical like on commercial airplanes.

"Come along, Miss; into the main area with you," whispered Alfred.

Gently, he pushed her into the main cabin, or at least, where the main cabin was on most planes. When she was three feet inside, Amara felt her jaw drop again.

It was a very lush and beautiful cabin. Expensive woods, fabrics, crystal and glass were everywhere. There was a mini-bar to one side, with sparkling glasses in a small cabinet over it. Close to the refreshments were two lounging chairs that were heavily cushioned, complete with matching footrests, which had elegant tables on either side of them. On the wall opposite the chairs hung a flat-screen television, beneath which sat a small cabinet with a DVD player on top.

On the other side of the cabin was a large couch. Before the couch was a glass-topped coffee table decorated with frosted designs; in the center of the table was a basket of fresh flowers. Tables stood on either side of the couch as well, each with a lamp so that someone could stretch out with a good book or a workload. Near the couch were two upholstered chairs with seatbelts dangling from the sides.

"There's more in the back," Bruce said, coming up behind her. "You see that the doorway over there? That leads to a very short hallway. The first door on your left is the bathroom aboard, which is much bigger than any you'll see on a public airplane. Beyond that is the bedroom, where there's a nice bed waiting for you when you're tired."

Her head was spinning. "There's a _bedroom_ onboard?" The rich certainly knew how to live!

A hand rested on her shoulder. "Sit down and buckle in," Bruce gently instructed.

Amara obediently took a seat on the couch and found one of the seatbelts hidden under the cushions. Bruce took a seat beside her and followed her example while Alfred took a seat in one of the chairs by the couch.

Half an hour later, they were airborne. When the plane leveled out, a male flight attendant in a black uniform emerged from the front, bearing a pad of paper in his hands and a friendly smile on his handsome face.

"Would you like anything to drink, Miss?" he asked. "Soda, water, coffee, anything?"

"Actually, feel free to break out the champagne," Bruce said from beside her. "And dinner, if you please. I'm sure she's quite famished."

The flight attendant nodded and headed off, once again leaving the three of them alone.

"Champagne?" Amara drawled, turning to look at Bruce. "And dinner? The most I usually get on a flight is a can of soda and those snack boxes they sell, which really aren't very filling."

Alfred chuckled. "Welcome to the life of the privileged," he said. "Supper should be good, if I'm any judge. What did you order for tonight and tomorrow morning, sir?"

"Italian for tonight," Bruce answered as the flight attendant came back out, a bottle of champagne and three glasses atop a tray. "I think we'll be having fresh fruit tomorrow, at least."

"That would be correct, sir," said the attendant as he served them their drinks. "The appetizer tray should be ready shortly."

Dinner tasted as though it had been made in an authentic Italian restaurant and brought onboard, which is what Amara felt must have happened. It was immediately followed by dessert, which consisted of Italian sorbets in three different flavors served in a Martini glass. When the dishes had been cleared away, she, Bruce and Alfred relaxed with a few hours of reading and music from the sound system that was in the cabinet under the television.

Before she knew it, Amara felt the day catch up with her. Her eyelids began to droop, and once she felt herself begin to fall over in exhaustion, she told Bruce she was going to head off to sleep.

Ever the gentleman, Bruce himself led her to the bedroom at the rear of the plane. It was remarkably quiet, considering the engines were so close by, so she couldn't complain. The bed was king-size, and very inviting. Her bag was already perched on one of the small tables, and the moment Bruce left her alone, Amara changed into a nightgown she had brought with her.

Much to her surprise, there was a plastic bag on the bed. Inside were a few sets of short-sleeved cotton shirts just her size, and in colors of white, blue, and pale peach, perfect for where they were heading. These she stored in her modest luggage case.

Another thing that astonished her was that there was another bathroom attached to the bedroom, probably for private use before bed. The bathroom was larger than expected, and she was able to move around without crashing into anything.

With her senses overloaded, Amara fell into bed, turned out the light, and was asleep in seconds.

* * *

It was after midnight when Bruce decided to turn in for the night, and he felt rather naughty about not telling Amara that they would be sharing the same bed. He could have slept on the couch, but Alfred had already claimed it, and the lounging chairs didn't seem very appealing. A warm bed with a pretty woman already in it was much more enticing, though he swore that nothing more than sleeping would occur.

In the bedroom, after he'd slipped out of his clothes and into his sleeping pants, Bruce wondered if he should put a shirt on, and decided against it. It was warm in the room, and there were covers on the bed. He'd be fine.

Stepping close to the bed, he let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room and risked a glance at the sleeping damsel. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of her laying on her back, clearly lost in dreams. In sleep, she looked so peaceful, so relaxed and calm. How could a person guess that a mad criminal was after her when they saw her like this? Bruce was glad that, at least in sleep, she had found a refuge from her life.

He watched as Amara stirred in her sleep, rolling over until she faced away from him. Her breathing slowed down a bit, and it was then that Bruce climbed in, moving slowly so as not to wake and alarm her. She deserved her rest.

Forcing his body to relax, Bruce let his mind drift, a part of him always aware of the female presence beside him.

* * *

AN: Sharing a bed with dear Bruce. Doesn't that sound like fun? Please review! Thanks!


	11. Paradise

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Yeah, waking up with a shirtless Bruce Wayne is my idea of paradise, so I can promise much more of that happening later on in the story! In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy yourselves in reading this chapter, and will leave a review. Thanks a bunch!

**Chapter 11: Paradise**:

Amara woke to the sensation of something warm pressed against her back, as well as draped over her stomach. The thing around her waist had a firm, but gentle grip on her, and was actually more comforting than alarming.

Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she took a glance down and saw that the thing clutching her waist was an arm…a _male_ arm! Slowly, she turned her head and almost screamed in surprise. Instead, she swallowed hard and tried to keep still.

There was Bruce, sound asleep with a soft smile on his face. It was an endearing, and rather drool-worthy sight, but what made her blush was the fact that the man was shirtless.

Now, normally Amara had no qualms about looking at pictures of shirtless men. However, waking up beside one was another story. Also, the fact that it was a playboy billionaire sleeping beside her made Amara feel as though she should get out of bed and as far away from this situation as possible.

'_Of course, if Julie were here, she'd be hitting me in the head with a heavy object_,' she thought as she turned away from her 'captor.'

There were probably dozens, if not hundreds, of girls who would love to be in this position: wrapped in the rather muscular arms of shirtless and, admittedly, very hot Bruce Wayne as he slept beside her. They would also probably be savoring the moment, not counting the minutes until it was time to wake up and escape.

'_But then, I'm not every other woman_,' she smiled to herself.

If she were, Amara was fairly sure she would be throwing herself at the unconscious man right now. As it was, she was quite happy to wait for him to wake up, leave, and to pretend that this never happened –well, at least until he brought it up in the future.

She felt Bruce's arm briefly tighten around her waist and held her breath. Honestly, she didn't know if she wanted him to wake up and leave, or go back to sleep so that _she_ could get out of bed and leave. Either choice ended in one of them leaving; the problem was which of them it would be.

A soft muttering reached Amara's ears, and she could feel a warm breath on her shoulder, neck, and hair. The arm around her tightened again, and Amara began to wonder how on earth she was going to get out of this without making things awkward.

* * *

Even in the midst of sleep, he could feel that something soft and warm was curled up against him. It was such a pleasant feeling that Bruce didn't want to wake up, and in an effort to hold onto it, he tightened his grip on whatever-it-was, keeping it pinned to him.

Twice he did this, tightening his hold on the comforting presence beside him, but after the second time, he felt the presence begin to try and escape. Not wanting to surrender so quickly, Bruce held even tighter, and heard a gasp of surprise.

Wait, a gasp?

Opening his eyes, Bruce found himself staring into dark brown orbs that stared at him in surprise and embarrassment. Fascinated, he watched as Amara's cheeks turned a charming pink.

"I, uh…think you can let go of me now," she whispered, eyes looking away from his.

That only made his hold tighter for some reason, though he was quick to relax it. However, his arm stayed where it was, keeping her trapped next to him.

"Did you sleep well?" he quietly whispered back.

Amara's brown eyes darted back upwards, meeting his before turning away. "Oh, uh, yes, I did," she stuttered. "I should get up now."

She began to pull away, and even though something inside begged him not to let her go just yet, Bruce released her. Watching her scamper out of bed, he smiled in amusement as she began gathering some clothes from her bags. Her arms full, Amara vanished into the connected bathroom and locked the door.

Sighing, Bruce laid back and put his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling in thought. It wasn't often that he found a girl who was shy about sharing a bed with him; in fact, it was kind of refreshing and interesting.

'_And a bit funny_,' he thought with a grin. The look on her face had been priceless.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door, and before he could answer it, the knob turned and the door swung in, admitting a rather serious Alfred Pennyworth, who eyed his master carefully as he carried a tray with a pitcher of juice and a bottle of champagne.

"I'm hoping that you didn't do anything to scar the poor young lady for life," he sarcastically commented. "I've a feeling she isn't used to waking up beside shirtless men, and you sharing a bed with her like that is rather harsh on the poor girl's nerves."

Alfred kept talking, purposely making it so that Bruce couldn't get a word in. "Bad enough she had to share a penthouse with you" he said. "Sharing a small bedroom aboard a plane probably didn't even cross her mind when she went to sleep last night. The least you could have done was warn her that there was only one bedroom."

Pouring two glasses of orange juice with a splash of champagne, Alfred offered one to his employer before turning towards the bathroom. "Would you care for something to drink, Miss?" he called.

"Oh, uh, just a minute!" Amara called back.

A few minutes later, she stumbled out, brushing her hair as she did so. A pale peach shirt, jeans, and sneakers were her choice of attire for the day, and in Bruce's opinion, they were appropriate for casual travel. However, he planned to get her some far better clothes when they landed.

"Oh, orange juice, wonderful," she said, reaching for the glass.

Alfred held it back a moment. "There's a bit of bubbly in it, too, just so you know," he warned. "It's a mimosa, or champagne and orange juice. Quite a nice pick-me-up, if I may say so."

She thanked him and accepted the glass, lifting it to her lips for a small sip. "Hmm, it's nice. You're right, it is a good pick-me-up."

Bruce began to get out of bed, but stopped when he heard a gurgling sound. He looked up and couldn't help but grin. There was Amara, subtly choking on her drink as she slowly backed out of the room. When she reached the door, she all but ran out, heading for the main cabin.

Something smacked him firmly, but gently, in the back of the head. "Stop it," Alfred chided him. "Her life's difficult enough without you teasing and tormenting her. Now get dressed, breakfast will be served soon."

Properly lectured, Bruce began to dress.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the main cabin, Amara was trying to get certain naughty images and thoughts out of her head. No matter what she tried, though, nothing could erase pictures of a half-naked Bruce Wayne; the sight had been way too up close and personal.

'_Oh, man, I knew this trip would be a bad idea_,' she thought, chewing her lower lip. '_I mean, there's only so much brain overload a girl can take in her life_!'

Maybe there was a way to stay somewhere else in Hawaii? Amara really wasn't sure she could handle daily doses of a shirtless Bruce Wayne in the morning, or any other time he went around barely dressed.

'_And what about whenever we go to the beach_?' she realized, her stomach dropping in panic.

Oh, yes, Bruce would definitely be shirtless then, and in swim shorts. Probably form-fitting shorts, too!

Amara swallowed. '_I don't think I can handle this_,' she thought.

"Care for something to eat, Miss?" asked a familiar English-accented voice.

Looking up, a tray of freshly sliced fruit hovered in front of her nose. The crisp aromas tickled her senses, and without hesitation, Amara reached for a slice of pineapple.

Alfred cleared his throat. "Actually, you might want one of these."

Blushing, she saw him holding a silver fork. "Thank you," she said, accepting the utensil. "Should I get a smaller plate, too?"

The butler shook his head. "We'll be landing in about an hour or so. Apparently we've made better time than we thought, and it helps that you overslept, so there's only time for you to have a bite to eat. The fruit will have to hold you over until we settle in after we land."

Famished, Amara helped herself to what was on the tray. Pineapple, melon, strawberries, and oranges were all elegantly arranged, and she was careful to remove bits and pieces so that it didn't disturb the perfect design they were put in.

With her first bite, she was once again dazzled at the life that rich people led. The pineapple was amazingly sweet, and the strawberries were the juiciest she'd ever tasted. Even the orange slices were dripping with what could only be described as liquid sunshine.

All of this was washed down with a glass of milk that Alfred brought to her, leaving Amara quite full and rather content. However, her contentment flew out the window when Bruce walked in, looking very sharp in perfectly pressed black pants and a dark blue polo shirt that really brought out his eyes.

"Good morning," he greeted her smoothly. "Did you eat already?"

She nodded and blushed, wondering if he was going to start teasing her now for what had happened earlier. Instead, Amara was surprised to see Bruce kneel by her chair, a rather apologetic look on his handsome face.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he softly whispered to her. "I didn't tell you about there being only one bed because I didn't want to worry you, and because I thought to be gone before you woke up."

The soft pink tint along his cheekbones told of his embarrassment. "As for the, ah, close embrace, I hope you don't think I was trying to attempt anything."

Amara could swear her cheeks were turning redder with each passing second. "Oh, no, I know that," she hastily assured him. "I mean, if you wanted me, you know, in that way, I'm sure that you would have tried something like that much sooner. Now that I know you, of course, I see that you're a nice guy who wouldn't try that sort of thing."

Smiling, she reached out and gently patted him on the shoulder, hoping that the gesture would somehow sooth his conscience. It apparently did the trick, because Bruce looked more at ease as he rose to his feet.

"Thank you," he said while holding his hand out to her. "Now that you've eaten, how about I tell you a bit about Hawaii, just so you're prepared?"

Shyly, Amara put her hand in his and followed him to the couch.

* * *

For the remainder of the flight, she learned that all sorts of beautiful flowers, plants, fruits and trees grew in the hot climate, and that all manner of fish and mammals inhabited the waters surrounding the islands. The beaches of Oahu, which was the island they would be staying on, had fantastic beaches, and that the water was warm, perfect for all sorts of water sports. Also, the locals had a very small welcoming ceremony performed for those who wished (and paid) for it when they landed.

Armed with this information, Amara had thought herself fully prepared. She hadn't counted on being stunned and amazed within moments of landing.

Once the plane had landed and pulled into a secluded area on the tarmac, the three of them were able to disembark. After they set foot on the ground, they were greeted by a young Hawaiian woman dressed in a bright blue Hawaiian dress with white flowers printed all over it. In her hair was an incredible headpiece of white flowers, and in her arms were three beautiful flower wreaths, which Bruce had told her were called leis.

Unsure of what was supposed to happen next, Amara tried to let Bruce and Alfred go ahead of her, but it seemed that Bruce had other ideas. He had escorted her down the steps of the plane, and now had a firm grip on her arm as he led her to the waiting greeter.

"Aloha," the young woman said, smiling brightly and cheerfully as she put a lei over Amara's head and settled it delicately around her neck.

"Aloha," Amara replied, startled.

The same happened to Bruce and Alfred, and by the time their greetings had ended, two elegant black cars had arrived. The driver of one of the cars emerged, keys in hand, and approached Alfred, handing over the keychain with a slight bow of the head before getting into the other car and speeding off. The greeter bowed and began to back away as a little white car pulled up, allowing her to get in and speed away, leaving the three of them quite alone.

"That's our cue to leave," Bruce whispered to her. Amara agreed.

With Alfred comfortably situated in the driver's seat, Bruce led Amara to the back and held the door open for her. "After you," he said with a slight bow and a grin.

Blushing, she climbed inside, marveling at the tan leather interior as Bruce climbed in beside her. It was a fancy car, alright, much like the one in Gotham, with elegant woods, leather, and fancy electronic GPS and sound systems.

"Comfy, everyone?" called Alfred. "If so, we're off."

Amara didn't have a chance to blink before the car practically raced out of the airport.

* * *

The drive was far more beautiful than she imagined it could be. Even the trees were amazing, some of them bearing large, draping clusters of flowers from their branches, the petals falling in colorful showers on those who passed under them. What enchanted Amara the most about these trees was that their flowers grew in a mixture of colors all mingled together, bringing the clusters into an enchanting swirl of beauty.

Looking out the window, exotic plants could be seen everywhere a person looked. Amara was astounded to see that even in the back yards of houses, plants and vines with brilliant red, purple, yellow, or white flowers grew tall and strong, much like roses did at the old Victorian houses. There were even fruit trees in most of these backyards, so that all a person had to do was walk out the backdoor, reach up, and pluck a ripe mango or papaya. It was incredible.

After about twenty minutes, Alfred pulled off of the freeway and onto more pedestrian-friendly streets. Hotels, restaurants, shops, and name-brand boutiques passed by, the sidewalks filled with tourists in casual walking clothes or expensive stylish garments fresh off the runways.

"This is Honolulu," Alfred explained, turning his head slightly so that his voice carried to her. "It's the most metropolitan city in Hawaii, which means it has a busy city-life, with tons of shops, places to eat, and hotels. If you want to stay in a really big city in paradise, this is the one."

"And this is Waikiki, a part of Honolulu," Bruce put in. "Its home to one of the most popular and famous beaches in the world, Waikiki Beach. Surfers love it here."

'_I wish I had a camera_,' was all Amara could think as they whizzed past a huge building that looked like a hotel straight out of the 1920's.

As though the surprises could not stop coming, Alfred pulled into a side entrance, following the flow of traffic until he reached the valets. One young man came and opened the rear doors, bowing slightly as Bruce got out.

"I need this parked in the structure reserved for the Wayne family," he told the man as he handed him five dollars. "And have someone bring the bags upstairs to the penthouse."

Wide-eyed, the youngster nodded and went to the driver's side door just as Alfred was getting out. The keys soon exchanged hands, and Amara knew that if she didn't get out, she'd be left behind in the car. Squeaking, she practically threw herself out the open rear door, ignoring Bruce's smile as she followed Alfred up a set of white marble steps.

"Alfred, how do you know your way around?" she asked, looking at the dazzling interior of the building they had entered. It was clearly a hotel, and an expensive one, if the tremendous bouquets of flowers in the lobby and the hanging chandelier were any hint. The chandelier itself looked very old, and was possibly from the 1920's as well.

"He's been here before," Bruce explained as he moved to walk beside her. "I imagine he traveled all the way here when my parents decided to buy the penthouse up top, and he made it his business to always remember how to get here."

"Plus, a good map of the area always helps," Alfred put in with a wink.

By then they had reached a corner desk that stood right beside an elevator that looked isolated from the rest of the lobby. A young Hawaiian woman sat there, clicking away at her computer, but occasionally looking up to deal with anyone who looked lost or seemed to have a question. When their party approached, she gave them a warm smile.

"Hello, are you looking to check in?" she asked.

"Actually," Bruce said while leaning on the counter, "I need a key to my penthouse up top there."

The woman's eye widened. "Mr. Wayne?" she gasped. "Oh, dear, sir, we had no idea you were coming!"

"Well, it was a spontaneous idea, so I guess that would be my fault," he replied. "I hope that there's nothing wrong with me going up there to settle in and unpack?"

A slightly panicked look came into the woman's eyes. "Well, sir, I'm afraid that it hasn't been tidied up recently," she babbled out. "And the place has been modernized quite a bit, all in accordance with your parents' instructions when they purchased the place. New computers, furniture, televisions, entertainment systems and so forth have replaced the older ones, but the relative style remains the same, which is that of the year your parents arrived."

By then a manager, a balding middle-aged man, arrived, clearly alarmed at the state of his employee. "Is there something the matter, Sonia?" the man asked.

"Well, in a way, there is, Mr. Lawrence," Sonia replied, clearly glad that she now had help. "This is Mr. Bruce Wayne, the owner of the penthouse."

Mr. Lawrence blinked. "Bruce Wayne?" he asked, looking the man up and down. "Do you have proof of identity, sir?"

Bruce pulled out his ID and allowed it to be inspected by the manager. From the way Mr. Lawrence paled, it was clear he now believed who their wealthy visitor was.

"I'm sorry to say, Mr. Wayne, that the penthouse is not quite ready for you at present," he apologized. "It's just been so long since someone of your family visited here, and though we've taken to having it cleaned three times a week, the maid has not been up there for several days. However, if you and your companions wouldn't mind a wait, you are free to have lunch in our restaurant, compliments of the hotel, of course, while we take care of this situation. It shouldn't take more than an hour or two."

Bruce looked pleased, and nodded. "I think we'll do that," he said, but looked at Amara for approval. "What do you say to lunch and a bit of shopping?"

Lunch sounded wonderful, as did the shopping. Amara nodded. "That sounds great." She turned towards Alfred. "But only if you go, too. I want you to come along."

The older man smiled. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Their noon meal was at a ritzy café off of the hotel lobby. They had immediately been shown to a table overlooking the ocean. The manager had said the beach was less than a hundred feet from the rear of the hotel, if they wished to visit it.

Seated where she was, Amara had an incredible view of the water, and was mesmerized by the sight. The ocean seemed to turn three different shades in the sunlight, ranging from dark blue to a marvelous powder-blue that she had only seen as a crayon color. The sand was a perfect sandy-white, and there were crowds of people playing, swimming, surfing, or snorkeling in the waves that rippled up onto the shore.

With a sigh of contentment, Amara sipped the exotic, fruity drink that Bruce had ordered for her. It had a splash of alcohol, just enough that she could taste it, but not enough to make her drunk, which, for her, was absolutely perfect.

Right now, everything was perfect.

* * *

Carefully watching Amara's expression, Bruce knew that he had made the right choice in bringing her here. The slew of new foods, surroundings, and experiences would distract her from what was going on in Gotham, which she very much needed right now. The slightly alcoholic drink seemed to be helping, too; it really helped that, next to Las Vegas, all of Hawaii was known for its interesting, tasty, alcoholic drinks.

Across the table from him, Alfred gave him a wink and went back to his iced tea, occasionally giving it a stir, making the ice clink slightly. It was also convenient that this was somewhat like a vacation for Alfred, too; the older man never took time off or went anywhere, not in all the time that Bruce had known him, and this was a sly way to get his most trusted friend to relax and have some fun. After all that he had done for Bruce and his family, Alfred certainly deserved it.

Smiling in contentment, Bruce sipped his own iced tea and sat back, letting some tension slowly drain out of his body, though he still kept a bit of it in his muscles. It wouldn't do for him to get soft, after all; he did have a city to protect once this vacation was over, and going soft was never a good idea, not in his line of work.

He looked at Amara and grinned. Batman could be put aside for a little while. After all, it was for a good cause, and if there was one thing Bruce loved, it was doing things for a very worthy cause; he couldn't think of one better than this. Let someone else worry; he was on vacation.

* * *

AN: More of Bruce and Amara in Hawaii next chapter! Hope you all enjoyed the chapter and will review! Thanks!


	12. A Day on the Town

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing related to _**Batman**_ and that universe. Only original characters are mine.

Also, I don't own the name brands listed in this chapter. They belong to their creators, or the people who rightfully own and run them. Not me.

AN: Shopping in Hawaii with Bruce. Hmm, how much would I buy if I were with him? (secretly counts money stolen from Bruce's wallet)

**Chapter 12: A Day on the Town:**

After a filling lunch, Amara sat back in her chair with a sigh and folded up her napkin. Honestly, who knew that shrimp could taste so heavenly?

'_Maybe it's because all someone has to do is put on their swim suits, wade out into the water with a net, and catch them_,' she thought, smiling.

Well, why not? The sea was literally right outside the doors of the hotel, and she could easily picture some fisherman's child going out into their 'back yard' and scooping up piles of fish just a few feet off their doorstep.

Looking at the empty shrimp shells on her plate, she wondered how often she could have fresh shrimp in Hawaii before she got tired of them. These had been cut length-wise after being cooked, and the meat had been incredibly sweet and succulent. If the shrimp was this good as a simple garnish for a risotto, Amara could only imagine what the fish and crab tasted like!

Her glass in her hand, she tried to figure out what, exactly, had been mixed into the fruity and exotic concoction that was her beverage. Rum, surely, but also some coconut, pineapple, and what tasted like berry juice, which made a nice reddish-pink swirl in the glass. It was both pretty and delicious.

"So, where to next, sir?" Alfred asked, setting aside his own napkin. "Now that we're all well-fed and slightly rested, should we do a bit of walking? If I remember the travel maps and brochures I looked at on the plane, there's a large amount of shopping nearby."

Bruce gave both of them a smile. "Then what are we waiting for?" he said, rising to his feet. A hand stretched out in Amara's direction. "Miss?"

She grinned and took his hand with a teasing, "Sir."

After giving the waiter cash for the food and his tip, the three headed out into the heavy, warm air of Hawaii. The smell of the sea had been in their noses since they'd sat down to lunch, but now that they were in the streets, other scents filled the air. Cooking food, coconut oil, suntan lotion, flowers from bushes and potted plants that lined the streets, perfumes from passing female tourists, and a dozen others made Amara's head spin.

But what really had her almost falling over were the high-end fashion shops and boutiques that seemed to be everywhere she looked.

"Bruce, I can't afford to shop at any of these places," she whispered as he led her onto the sidewalk.

He smiled. "Well, that's what you've got me for. We should start with clothes, first. I want to make sure you're comfortable. Then we can move on to purses and handbags."

She wanted to tell him that her current purse, which was upstairs in the penthouse, was fine, but wasn't given the chance. At that moment, Bruce pulled her into a shopping center, and the shopping event began.

* * *

Three hours later, Amara was exhausted. In spite of her efforts, Bruce had been able to convince her to get several bags worth of clothing, including shirts, Capri pants, sandals, shorts, and a pair of white sneakers. But the very last thing that they bought was a very expensive handbag (with matching wallet) that cost more than Amara made in three months.

"We are never doing that again," she told him as they left the Chanel store, a gorgeous black leather handbag and wallet carefully wrapped and boxed inside a plastic carry-bag. "And no more handbags! Or wallets! Especially _name-brand_ handbags and wallets!"

Laughing, Bruce promised as he led her down the street.

In spite of the large amount spent on a mere purse, Amara had managed to find all of her new clothes at relatively decent prices. Thank goodness they had a Macy's close by, and that they were having a sale! Most of her new clothing had been marked down so low that they were almost giving stuff away, though the shoes were a different story.

"I think you did rather well," Alfred commented as they made their way back to the hotel. "Those silver shoes are rather pretty, and the black ones can be worn with that black dress you bought."

Amara rolled her eyes. "You mean the black dress that Bruce _made_ me buy," she retorted. "I didn't want a fancy outfit, but of course _you_ had to insist on it."

The billionaire simply grinned at her. "Well, you looked nice in it," was the only excuse he gave.

Alfred chuckled. "And he probably means to take you to someplace fancy for a meal or three, so having something like that is a good thing," he told her. Leaning over, he whispered, "and you did look very pretty in the dress."

She blushed and gave him a grateful smile. "Do you think so? Black is one of the few colors I look good in, and certain dress styles aren't flattering on me, so I couldn't be sure."

The older man hastily assured her it was a good choice, for which she was thankful. She hated picking out dresses that ended up looking bad on her later.

When they arrived at the hotel, the manager from earlier, Mr. Lawrence, was there to greet them.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne," he said in a fawning voice. "The penthouse is ready, your bags are waiting for you upstairs, and the staff is ready to help you in any way possible in filling your refrigerator with necessary items. Oh, and the bathrooms have been stocked with our signature shampoos, soaps, etc."

Bruce smiled and shook the man's hand. "Thank you. We'll head up now, if you don't mind. If anyone calls for me today, take a message. I don't want to be disturbed, unless it's an emergency."

"Of course, sir," Mr. Lawrence replied. "Have a pleasant stay."

Using the keycard given to him by the manager, Bruce led the way to the private elevator that would take them up to the penthouse. It wasn't very big, but it could fit about six or seven people. The exterior was plain and white, much like the hotel's outer walls, but inside was another story.

Like the interior of the hotel, this elevator was elegantly, but simply, decorated. It had polished gold mirrors along the walls, white marble tiles on the floor, and beautifully carved dark wood lined the ceiling, corners, and floor. It had to be the most impressive elevator Amara had ever ridden in. Even the elevator leading up to his Gotham City penthouse hadn't been this nice.

They finally reached the penthouse level, and with a cheerful ding, the doors opened, and once again Amara was struck by how the rich and powerful could live.

This penthouse was vastly different from the one in Gotham City. In Gotham, the house had four walls; here, there seemed to be only three. The walls that existed were white stone or plaster, and there were windows _everywhere_! Most overlooked the city, but the open side of the penthouse had a breathtaking view out over the ocean.

"It's not really an open wall, Miss," Alfred explained as he set down the bags he was carrying. "There's a large sliding glass window that can be put in place when it rains, so there's no need to worry any."

She smiled and went to pick up the bags herself, shaking her head when both men tried to help. "No, I've got it. Just show me where my room is, and I'll start putting stuff away."

Naturally, this was when they all decided to take a small tour of the place. Amara automatically assumed that the master bedroom would go to Bruce, since the place was his. It was a huge room with a king-size bed, television, a magnificent bathroom with both a tub and a shower, and a large walk-in closet. All of the furniture was either dark crème, white, or beige, and made it look very classy.

"Wow," she breathed, brown eyes darting back and forth as she took the place in.

"I'm thinking that this should be your room," Bruce told her. "You've got more stuff than I do, and I think you'd enjoy the tub much more than me. I'm more of a shower person, myself."

Amara stared at him as though he were crazy. "You can't be serious," she deadpanned. "This is your house, not mine! You can't give me your bedroom, it's not right."

He finally gave in and showed her to the second-largest bedroom. Though quite a bit smaller, it did have its own bathroom, though the tub and shower were combined into one. However, the view was amazing; half the city, half the ocean, and Amara fell completely in love with it. The extra closet and wardrobe space was also a plus, not to mention the television and entertainment center that was her own to use and to watch from the bed.

In addition to the bedrooms, there was the kitchen, a dining room, an office/library, a spacious bedroom for Alfred to use, a living room/entertainment room, and finally, the large back area that held a pool and a large porch for sitting and admiring the view.

"Wow," was all Amara could say as she stared at the pool. Presently it was empty, but it would definitely be filled soon, according to Bruce.

"I'm a swimmer, and even though we've got the ocean just steps from the hotel, sometimes you just don't want to deal with sand after a swim," he said. "And you never know what kind of animals you'll encounter in the sea."

Well, he had a good point. Although Amara would love to encounter a dolphin or see some tropical fish in their natural habitat, the thought of possibly coming face-to-face with a shark was frightening. She'd wait until the pool was filled before indulging in swimming.

"Oh, crap," she muttered, remembering something else she'd forgotten.

Bruce turned to look at her. "Problem?" he asked.

"A swimsuit," Amara replied, blushing slightly. "I forgot I need one for the beach and stuff."

"I take it that you will be embarking on another shopping trip tomorrow," Alfred said with a smile. "Since this is Hawaii, there are a lot of places that carry swim outfits, and one of them is bound to have something that fits your personal tastes."

"Oh, absolutely," Bruce agreed. "We can head out tomorrow, whenever you're up to it."

Amara blanched. "Uh, I think it would be best if I did this on my own," she hastily insisted.

Seriously, the last thing she wanted was Bruce seeing her try on swimsuits! The poor man might go blind if she put on the wrong one. After all, Amara wasn't exactly a thin girl, and most swim outfits tended to not fit a girl of her, uh, body type.

Bruce actually looked confused, and a little hurt. "Why? It's just shopping for something to swim in. I don't see what the big deal it."

Alfred coughed politely. "I believe that most women prefer to shop for that sort of thing either with their friends or alone, Master Bruce," he said, saving Amara from further embarrassing herself. "It might be best if I take her out tomorrow after lunch."

Reluctantly, Bruce agreed. He then declared it was time for everyone to take a nap, and afterwards, they'd all go out for an elegant dinner once everyone was rested and refreshed.

Glad for the escape, Amara rushed to her room, quickly wishing the others a nice rest as she darted off.

In the safety of her room, she locked the door and began putting her new clothes away. When that was done, she transferred all of the contents of her old purse into the new one, though she did this reluctantly, considering how much the thing had cost. However, she wasn't doing it for herself; she was actually doing it for Bruce.

Normally, Amara wouldn't care about appearances, but she didn't want to look shabby if she was going to be in public with Bruce Wayne. The last thing she wanted was for everyone to laugh at him because of how _she_ looked. Just the idea of people laughing at him horrified her.

Just then, Amara froze. '_Wait, what if they think we're dating_?' she thought in a panic. '_I can't be thought of as Bruce Wayne's latest conquest_! _My parents would freak out, and so would my boss. I could be fired for that_!'

Not to mention what would happen if The Joker found out where she was and who she was with. Of course, it would be kind of hard for the makeup-wearing villain to _get_ to Hawaii. It wasn't like he could jump on a plane and head out here, nor could he steal a plane and order it flown out here, thanks to the new air marshals the government had riding commercial flights.

'_I have to talk to Bruce about this_,' she decided. '_I can't be thought of as his girlfriend, especially when it's not true_.'

Best case scenario, she would appear merely as his friend. Worst case: her reputation would be in shreds, and everyone would think of her as just another mark on the tally that Bruce Wayne kept on his bedpost.

'_I have to do something, and quick_,' Amara thought with a yawn. The day's jetlag was catching up with her. '_Right after a nap, though_.'

Maybe after she was rested, she could think of some way to talk to Bruce. In the meantime, the bed looked very inviting.

* * *

It had been just after 5:00 pm when Bruce laid down for a 'quick' nap, and when he woke, it was well after seven o'clock.

Cursing, he leaped out of bed and would have started calling for Alfred, had the older man not already been in his room, laying out a perfectly pressed suit and tie.

"Your guest is presently getting ready, Master Bruce," he said, carefully setting down a pair of polished black shoes. "I'll go tell her that you are awake and cleaning up. With any luck, the two of you will finish at the same time."

Leaping into the shower, Bruce scrubbed, rinsed, and dried himself off before shaving, a process which seemed to go incredibly slowly, since he was making every effort not to accidentally cut himself.

When his face was washed off, he began pulling his clothes on in a hurry. After a moment, though, he slowed down, not wanting to wrinkle anything or get it out of place. Then there was his hair to do, a splash of aftershave that Alfred had managed to magically produce, and he was done.

"Good, you're ready," Alfred said with a smile. "Oh, wait a moment."

He quickly straightened Bruce's tie, collar, and handed him a set of cufflinks. "I took the liberty of packing and purchasing a great deal extra for the trip, sir," he said, answering his employer's unasked question. "Some of it was loaded onto the plane before takeoff, and the rest I purchased on your card, since I had the feeling you would need it."

"Remind me why you won't let me give you a raise," Bruce said, running a hand over his hair as he tried to be sure it was set in place.

"Because you can't afford it what I'd charge," Alfred replied with a grin. "Now, off you two go. There's a very fancy car waiting for you with the valets, so you can take a drive after dinner, if you wish. Don't go near the ocean, though; you never know what's crawling along the sand in the dark, and even in this paradise, you might find some not-so-nice people."

Smiling, Bruce promised to take good care of Amara and to not do anything stupid. He quickly bid his friend 'good night' and went in search of his date for the evening.

'_Not that she's really a date_,' he hurriedly thought. '_It's just dinner between friends, that's all_.'

Yup, just dinner between him and a very attractive librarian. That was it. Nothing romantic about it at all.

Of course, if his father was alive, Thomas Wayne would be telling his son to act honorably towards the lady, and to treat her respectfully, all the while looking as though he knew something that Bruce didn't. His dad had possessed that uncanny ability to give just the right advice whenever it was needed, and Bruce had always done his best to listen. Now that he was gone, Bruce would have to imagine what his father would say and try to act accordingly.

He paused before Amara's bedroom door and knocked. "Amara? Are you ready?"

The door opened, and there she was, clad in the velvet black dress they had bought just hours before. The off-the-shoulder short sleeves set off the sweetheart cut neckline, and the hem ended just below her knees. The slight heels of her sandals lifted her up to the height of his shoulder. Her dark brown hair was pulled up on top of her head, the ends curled and left to hang elegantly down to her neck. A tiny bit of blue eye shadow, a bit of lipstick and a light dusting of powder was all the makeup she wore, but it suited her. Personally, Bruce hated it when women wore gobs of eyeliner and caked their faces with makeup.

Swallowing, Bruce was extremely glad he hadn't insisted that she model the dress for him in the store; the surprise of seeing her in it and fully made up for the first time was worth the wait.

Sniffing, he detected a slight whiff of perfume, and smiled. No doubt Alfred had obtained it for her while they napped earlier.

Amara heard him sniff the air and blushed. "Alfred got the perfume for me," she explained. "I told him a while ago which brand I wore, and he apparently went out and got a small bottle for me."

"Well, you look and smell wonderful," Bruce replied with a grin. "Now, if you'll allow me, I would love to escort you to your carriage, Miss Thomas."

Smiling, she took his arm and followed him to the elevator. "Is Alfred not coming?"

"No, he's decided to stay in today," replied Bruce. "It's just you and me tonight."

"Oh." She nibbled her lower lip. "Um, Bruce? Is this a…date?"

He stopped right in front of the elevator, his hand frozen in midair while reaching for the button. "Well, I would like to think of it as a dinner between friends, but if you'd like to call it a date…"

"Oh, no," Amara blurted out, "no, I was just asking, since it's just the two of us. Dinner as friends is what I'd prefer. I mean, I wouldn't want people thinking we were, you know, dating or anything. I don't think my boss would really approve of that."

Bruce didn't bother to tell her that, ultimately, _he_ was her boss, and that Mrs. Wilson couldn't fire her without his approval. If she wanted to quit, that was another story, but if she was worried about losing her job, he would never let that happen. And to be honest, there would probably be a flood of complaints by library patrons if she was.

And yet, something was bothering him. Amara didn't want anyone to think she was dating him, and that was new for him. Bruce had been having a lot of these since he'd first met her, and he wasn't sure if he liked them or not, though they were certainly good for deflating his ego.

So his question was: why didn't she want people thinking the two of them were together? Most women wanted to be linked to one of the richest, most powerful men in the world, and yet, that was the furthest thing from her mind.

'_It's because she doesn't want to ruin her reputation by being thought of as your latest conquest_,' explained the reasonable part of his brain. '_Amara isn't like the other women you associate with. Unlike those empty-headed, gold-digging flirts you normally date, Amara is smart, she's funny, and she's got a good deal of common sense. Of course she doesn't want others thinking less of her after she's hung out with you._'

Down the elevator they went, and Bruce felt his stomach drop with it. Would hanging out with him really ruin the way people thought of her? He didn't think so, but then, most of the world thought Bruce Wayne to be a typical billionaire playboy, a man who was spoiled, arrogant, and not very bright. If Amara were associated with him, people might think the worst of her, that she wanted him for his money or influence, and he couldn't let that happen.

"Bruce? We're here," Amara softly told him as she tugged his arm. "Are you okay?"

He pulled himself back to what was important, and that was making sure that Amara had a good time. Smiling, he led her out of the elevator and out to the lobby, where he immediately took her to the valet area.

One of the young men there nodded his head and handed over a set of keys. "It's the red convertible over there, sir. I hope that you and the lovely lady have a pleasant night."

"Thank you," Amara replied as Bruce led her to the waiting car.

When they got there, however, she stood and stared at the emblem set at the very front of the car. "Bruce, this is a _Ferrari_," she whispered. "If my brother knew I was riding in one of these, he'd kill me."

He chuckled. "Then we'd better be sure he doesn't find out, huh?" he said, opening the door for her.

She smiled and got in. When the engine revved, she squealed as they pealed down the driveway and out into the streets of Oahu.

* * *

As always, dinner with Bruce was an elegant affair. Tonight, it was a very expensive steakhouse, where they were seated in a secluded corner booth. The entire place was fairly dark, with only the candles on the table and the lamps on the wall lighting everything.

The meal was the most delicious and amazing thing Amara had ever had. Her steak was so tender, it melted in her mouth. Her vegetables were served in a wonderful cream sauce, and the mashed potatoes were not only light and fluffy, the herbs that flavored it made her taste buds sing. Just when she thought she couldn't eat another bite, Bruce ordered dessert.

It was a chocolate flambé, made tableside with coffee flavored liqueur and chopped up bars of dark chocolate. Then it was set on fire to evaporate the alcohol, blown out, and poured over ice cream and fresh fruit from the Hawaiian Islands. Even though Amara knew she'd been full earlier, after the scent of freshly melted chocolate reached her nose, it was hard to resist the delicious treat.

Full to nearly bursting, the two walked back to the car, where Bruce asked if she would be willing to go for a walk. Eager to settle the food in her stomach, she agreed.

Despite the late hour, the streets were still full of people, some going to dinner, some coming from dinner, and others who were eager to visit the shops in the coolness of the evening. Even though it was night, the air was still warm, but not unpleasantly so, and Amara was very thankful that there was a constant breeze to help cool things off.

Gas-powered torches had been installed in the sidewalks, providing light and warmth to those who insisted on shopping after dark. Chocolate shops, bakeries, clothing boutiques, shoe stores, jewelry carts, and all sorts of other stores stood wide open, apparently keeping late hours in order to accommodate the tourist crowds. Restaurants poured out onto the sidewalks, offering outdoor seating to those who wanted to take in the sights, sounds, and scents of Hawaii as they ate.

"Wow, it's so busy," she said, clinging tightly to Bruce's arm as they walked; with the large crowds, the last thing she wanted was to get lost!

"Considering how hot it is during the day, everyone takes advantage of the cooler evening to do shopping," he explained. "Mostly, the morning is the ideal time to go to the beach and surf or get tan. During the day, some people like to visit the zoo, or the aquarium, and save their shopping for the night hours. The shops stay open until after nine o'clock, sometimes after ten, to accommodate everyone."

Amara could well believe it! There were shops everywhere, and just as many restaurants, too. Japanese, Chinese, Thai, Vietnamese, American, Indian, everything was offered to suit everyone's tastes, and they were all full of hungry tourists and locals. It was like Gotham, in a way, but Gotham City didn't have such happy, glowing people walking the streets during the day, much less at a late hour at night.

The sound of rapid drumbeats filled the air, and Amara found herself looking around for their source. The noise apparently caught Bruce's ear, too, because he immediately began dragging her in their direction, skillfully avoiding the crowds until they came to a large open-air shopping center. In the middle of the courtyard was a trio of women in grass skirts, flower headpieces, and bright dresses. Behind them was a band of drummers and singers, all of them creating a tune that made even Amara want to join in with the dancing.

'_I wish I could move my hips that quickly_,' she thought. This thought must have been unintentionally vocalized, because she heard Bruce chuckle beside her.

"I'm sure that if you had the chance to practice, you could get it down," he whispered to her as she blushed. "But I think you'd have more fun watching than doing. I'll arrange for us to see a real Hawaiian luau, which is full of dancing, food, and other exciting stunts. You'll love it."

After watching the performance for a while, Amara began to yawn. Her feet were beginning to hurt, too, and it was a bit of a walk back to the car. Bruce took notice of her exhaustion and began leading her back to where they'd had dinner. On the way, he bought a cup of ice cream to help keep her strength up. It worked, but by the time they reached the penthouse, she was ready for bed.

Just as expected, Alfred was there, waiting for them with a warm smile. "Off to bed with you, young lady," he said, sounding so much like her father that she grinned. "Feel free to sleep in tomorrow, there's no rush for us to be anywhere. Once you're up, we can plan for something fun to do, or perhaps just have a day at the beach."

Yawning, Amara nodded and headed off to her room after wishing both men a goodnight. She was asleep the minute her head hit the pillow.

* * *

Sipping his cup of tea, Bruce relaxed his muscles and smiled. So far, his plan was working. Amara was having a good time, and she seemed rather happy. If she was happy, so both he and Alfred would have to work their hardest to make sure she stayed that way.

And to be honest, Bruce was having a good time as well. It was nice to be without worries for a while, and to have fun. It had been a while since he'd been so carefree.

"I think that having her around like this is good for you, sir," Alfred said as he put away Bruce's clothes. "Miss Amara is like a bit of fresh air that we both needed in life, and she's brought a bit of fun along with her. It's nice having her here, don't you think?"

Yes, he did think so, and that was what bothered him. Could he afford to care so much about one person, particularly when so many others needed him -or rather, Batman? He couldn't be distracted by thoughts of only one woman when hundreds of them were at risk in his city.

"Don't think about it, sir," Alfred said, interrupting his thoughts. "Stop brooding and finish your tea. You need rest, and you can think later with a clear and alert head."

Obediently, Bruce did just that. He, too, was asleep before he had time to inhale twice.

* * *

AN: The flambé thing was something I actually experienced on a recent trip to Hawaii. It's absolutely wonderful, and I highly recommend it if you're there. It's not something you easily forget!

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed reading and will review! Thanks!


	13. Swimsuits

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Going to be some yummy stuff at the end of this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it. Please don't forget to review! Thanks!

**Chapter 13: Swimsuits:**

The next morning, Amara woke to warm sunshine and the smell of the sea in her bedroom. There was also a strange, exotic scent that seemed to be part of Hawaii as well, and, keeping her eyes closed, she inhaled it deeply. It was a scent that would always bring back memories of this place, and she wished there was a way to bottle it and take it with her when she left.

But now was not the time to think of home, or the dark, cold city it was in. Now it was time to savor this paradise she had surrounding her, and wonder what it was she would do today.

A light tap sounded on her door. "Miss? Are you awake?"

Trapped between a sigh and a laugh, Amara shook her head. There had to be some way to get Alfred to call her by her first name, but right now, she couldn't think of one.

'_I guess I'll just have to let it be_,' she thought.

Even though it was probably fairly late in the morning, Amara wasn't sure she wanted to get up yet. It was so nice just lying there, her whole day open to whatever it was she _wanted_ to do, not what she _had_ to do.

'_Well, okay, there's __**one**__ thing I have to do_.'

Swimsuit shopping. She _hated_ shopping for bathing suits! It was always so hard to find something that fit, and that looked good on her. What made it worse was when she put a suit on and it showed all sorts of things she really didn't want to show!

However, she _was_ in Hawaii, and a visit or two to the beach was like an unwritten law amongst the tourists that came to the islands. So, a swimsuit was needed, and maybe something pretty and light to wear over it.

'_And beach sandals_,' Amara added. '_Suntan lotion, too, and maybe a hat to wear in order to keep the sun off would be a good idea_.'

"Miss Amara?" Alfred called through the door. "It's getting close to ten o'clock. I've breakfast waiting, and if you like, we can leave soon after you're finished eating."

Heaving a resigned sigh, she threw the covers back and sat up. It was remarkably comfortable in the penthouse, though she was sure it was getting rather toasty outside, even at this early hour. Amara made a note to wear something light and comfortable when she went out.

After a quick shower, blow-dry, and brushing, she chose a pair of beige Capri pants, a pale pink short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of brown leather sandals. Dressed and ready, Amara headed out to the kitchen.

Much to her surprise, only Alfred greeted her. "Master Bruce is presently engaged in a business call with Mr. Lucius Fox, the gentleman you met back in Gotham," he explained. "I'm afraid it will be just the two of us today, at least for the most part."

Oh, well, if there was work to be done, Amara couldn't blame Bruce for taking care of that first. After all, he had to be needed once in a while, probably for important things, so she could hardly be angry at him. Besides, Alfred was fun to hang out with, so why shouldn't she seize the day and have fun?

Her morning meal consisted of homemade waffles with blueberry syrup, a fresh sliced pineapple, and a tall glass of milk. It was all delicious, and Amara loved every bit of it. The pineapple was the sweetest she'd ever had, and she made a mental note to try and take some home with her later.

When she was stuffed full, Amara helped clear the dishes, dry them, and stack them in the cupboards, though Alfred did all he could to try and stop her. It was quicker with two people, though, so he really had no reason to complain.

Finally, it was time to go. Since most of the stores and shops were close by, Amara wanted to walk around and explore everything. Alfred, however, insisted on taking the car.

"As hot as it gets here, the heat and the humidity will suck the life out of you a lot quicker than you think," he said. "I'd rather have the car handy in case you overtire yourself, since you're not used to the local weather."

It was hard to argue with that, so she reluctantly followed Alfred out to the garage. By the time she'd hopped into the car, Amara realized he'd been right. It was amazingly hot and humid, even before noon, thanks to the intense amount of sunlight pouring down. Taking in the car's blissful air conditioning, Amara was very glad she'd decided to listen to Alfred, and wondered how she hadn't noticed the heat and humidity yesterday.

'_Probably because we were in and out of so many shops, it didn't really hit me until now_.'

Well, she certainly felt it, and would have to be careful to drink plenty of liquids. If she fainted from dehydration, she'd have only herself to blame.

As they pulled into the parking lot of a shopping center, Amara took a deep breath and sighed. '_Here we go. Shopping for a swimsuit. Yay_.'

* * *

After the first half hour or so, Amara felt it was only fair to tell Alfred to go off on his own for a while. Since he was dressed in a white polo shirt, white pressed pants and white shoes, he looked like any other person on the street, and she told him it was perfectly alright for him to go off and have some fun.

Of course, the man flatly refused to do so. "Master Bruce would never forgive me if I left you to your lonesome, Miss," he said. "And I don't mind, really. Plus, if you need advice or comments on your choices, I'm happy to give it."

She stared at him in amazement. "And what would you know about women's bathing suits, Alfred?"

He chuckled. "Oh, I've seen plenty of women in my time on earth, Miss, no doubt about that. I know a bit about their fashions, considering the women that Master Bruce once kept company with, and I can promise you that I won't lie when you ask my opinion about something."

'_Well_,' she thought, '_that was unexpected_!' Though, Amara had to admit, she really would appreciate his honest opinion on what she looked like when she tried things on.

Two hours later, she had what she was looking for at one of the local shops, plus a little something extra to complete her beach attire. Alfred agreed, it was a very nice color that suited her, and the cut was very stylish. Amara liked it because it wasn't too revealing, and it hid just the right things in just the right places.

"You'll knock them dead on the beaches," Alfred said as he drove them back towards the hotel.

Amara snorted her disbelief. She'd settle for not blinding anyone with her choice.

They arrived just after two o'clock, and by then, Amara was dying for a drink of water. Alfred had been right about the heat draining the life out of a person, and the minute they got inside, he fetched them both a tall glass of ice water. While she sipped that, he prepared something cold for them to eat.

Lunch was a meal of fresh food from the local markets that had apparently been ordered by Alfred earlier that morning. First was a salad of tomatoes, onions, cilantro, and salmon all mixed together into a refreshing starter. Next Alfred served a shrimp scampi over pasta, with the shrimp fresh from the sea that morning.

Then, just when Amara felt she couldn't eat another bite, Alfred served up chocolate-dipped pineapple slices. Since chocolate was something she could never turn down, Amara helped herself to one, and when she'd finished that, couldn't resist taking another one.

"Finished?" Alfred asked as he came to check on her.

She pointed at the plate with the tempting dessert. "You'd better take that away and hide it," Amara told him. "Otherwise I'll eat the whole thing, and won't fit into my new swimsuit."

He chuckled and did as he was bid. A few minutes later, the butler returned with a tray of iced tea, two glasses, and a sugar container. The two of them sat and relaxed for a moment, looking out the windows of the dining room and watching the sun and clouds pass over the ocean.

"I'm sorry Master Wayne isn't here to relax like this," the older man said as he sipped his tea. "He called me while you were busy shopping, saying that he'd be using one of the hotel conference rooms for business. Hopefully that'll be the last of it. Mister Fox is usually able to handle most things on his own, and rarely has to call Master Bruce about urgent matters."

Amara sighed. She'd noticed the lack of greeting when they'd returned from shopping, and figured that Bruce was probably off doing something important.

But despite that, lunch had been amazing, though Amara was sure that the salmon salad dish had probably been pre-made by the hotel's kitchen staff. It had tasted like it'd been marinating together for at least an hour or so, though the scampi had been freshly made by Alfred himself.

"I think I'm ready for a nap," she said, yawning. The food plus the day's shopping were taking their toll on her, and Amara was ready for some shuteye.

Alfred chuckled and patted her arm. "Then off to bed with you. Or if you like, you can rest in the living room. There's a wonderfully comfortable couch in there, if you'd like to take advantage of it."

Smiling, she decided to do just that.

* * *

The video conference with Lucius Fox had gone mildly well, though both of them were a bit concerned about the latest acquired company that Wayne Enterprises had just taken on. Lots of jobs were at risk, but Bruce had faith that Lucius would find work for most of the employees. Anyone let go would receive a generous compensation check so that they could get by, and written recommendations to find new jobs elsewhere.

By the time all of the wrinkles in the deal had been worked out and all tempers soothed, it was after noon and Bruce was famished. He was certain that Amara had finished with her shopping by now, and was probably waiting for him upstairs.

As he rode up the elevator, that last thought made Bruce's gut clench. There might be an attractive woman waiting for him upstairs, just the way his mother, Martha, had waited for his father to come home every night after work. What would it be like to have someone who wasn't Alfred greeting him at the door when the day was done?

He was brought back to himself when the elevator 'dinged' and the doors slid open. There was Alfred, as usual, with a welcoming smile on his face and a glass of what Bruce really hoped to be strong alcohol.

"Sorry, sir, but it's only iced tea," his butler said, eerily reading his employer's thoughts. "Since I'm going to assume that you haven't had time for lunch, consuming liquor on an empty stomach would be a very bad idea for you. Lunch is long over, but there's a nice chilled salad right from the hotel's kitchens that I can dish up, and a great deal of shrimp I can whip up into something."

"It all sounds great, Alfred," Bruce told him as he took the glass of tea. "Where's Amara?"

There was a sparkle in the old man's eyes as he replied, "She's sleeping on the couch in the living room. Had a long day, and I think I'm doing what she's always worrying about."

Bruce looked at him in confusion. "And what's that?"

"She says if I keep feeding her and cooking as I do, we'll soon have to roll her to work and back," Alfred said with a smile. "I swear that woman is growing on me, sir. She's a sweet thing, and I think I've had more compliments from her on my cooking than from anyone else."

That made Bruce feel even stranger than he had in the elevator. So far, Alfred had never approved of any woman in Bruce's life except for Rachel. However, it seemed that he liked Amara very much, and seemed almost fond of her. Since Bruce respected Alfred's opinion, it was safe to say that their guest has the butler's hard-earned approval, and that, in turn, earned Bruce's, too.

He backtracked on that thought. '_Well, actually, I respected her a long time ago. Not only did she survive hours in The Joker's company, she also thinks Batman is a good man and appreciates what he's doing for Gotham City, even if he is a wanted man_.'

"Lunch will be ready shortly, Master Bruce," Alfred said, breaking his thoughts. "The salad can be dished up in a jiffy, but how would you like your shrimp prepared?"

"However you made it for Amara is fine," Bruce replied as he loosened his tie. "I'm going to check up on her and then go change. When she's awake, we can head out for a walk around town or go check out the beach."

"Very good, sir." With that, Alfred nodded his head and went off into the kitchen.

With his tie completely off, Bruce headed in the direction of the living room, intent on making sure his guest was comfortable.

As he anticipated, most of the heavy curtains were drawn so that the room was kept cool and dark. One window had been left alone so that a bit of sunlight could fall in, brightening up the space just a little. It was with this bit of light that he saw Amara sound asleep on the large white couch, her body sinking into the plush cushions.

Smiling, Bruce silently made he way over to her and knelt down, wanting to see if she was sleeping peacefully. The soft, contented look of her face spoke volumes, as did the dreamy smile on her lips. A lock of loose hair lay delicately on her cheek. Without thinking, Bruce reached out and smoothed it back, taking care not to wake her.

A soft rustling at the door made him turn. There was Alfred, a smile on his face. Embarrassed at being caught, Bruce stood and crept out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind him. The smell of shrimp reached his nose and he eagerly followed the scent to the kitchen, where he was greeted by the welcoming sight of his meal waiting for him. Sighing with joy, he sat down and began to eat.

Bruce had just finished the last drink of wine when Alfred approached, a solemn look on his face.

"Mr. Fox is on the phone, sir," he said. "Apparently some miscommunication happened between a few parties, and you're needed to help sooth a few ruffled feathers."

With a resigned sigh, Bruce rubbed his eyes and went to take the call. Any time he wanted to spend with Amara would have to wait.

* * *

When she woke from her nap, Amara was disappointed to learn that Bruce would be busy with work for the rest of the day. Something about an acquired company deal having some rough patches, and as the head of Wayne Enterprises, Bruce was needed to try and sooth everyone's nerves.

Although she understood that it was important work, Amara was still disappointed at not being able to spend some time with him. However, Alfred assured her that Bruce would be free tomorrow, and that having a 'night in' wouldn't be so bad.

Indeed it wasn't. Tonight, Alfred made it so that her dinner was served on the porch by torch- and candlelight. A wonderful array of dishes native to Hawaii was served: freshly roasted pig, cold spicy beef slices, the salmon-and-tomato salad she'd had earlier, and a wonderful cucumber salad, to name a few. A coconut-chocolate cake rounded up the meal, much to Amara's delight.

After the dishes were cleared away, Amara went to her room and sighed. A small assortment of DVDs had been set up for her to watch, and so she chose what looked like the most calming and romantic film in the stack. She then proceeded to settled into bed with the remote to watch it.

That movie, combined with the night's dinner, might have been the reason why she found herself being shaken awake the next morning by an amused Alfred.

"Good morning, Miss," he said cheerfully. "Master Bruce would like to know if you would accompany him to the beach this morning after breakfast, preferably before the sun gets too hot."

She agreed. After he'd left, Amara quickly got out of bed and was amazed to find her breakfast on the table nearby. Chilled fruit, cereal, milk, toast and jam all sat there, waiting for her to tuck in, which she quickly did. When most of her meal was settled in her stomach, Amara immediately headed for the part of her wardrobe that held her beach purchases from the day before.

Swallowing, she nervously eyed the swimsuit and wondered if she had chosen correctly. The last thing she needed was to nauseate people with how she looked in a bathing suit; she'd settled for merely being decent and semi-invisible on the beach.

Well, it was too late now. With a sigh, Amara pulled off her clothes and changed. Her suit was in two pieces, though it was definitely not a bikini. The bottom was like a mini-skirt, and the top so closely resembled a tank top that she could easily wear it as such and no one would notice. It also helped that the upper part of the suit was very supportive and covered a great deal of her torso.

Around her waist was a sarong that she had purchased in the same store as the suit. It seemed that a lot of women wore these, locals and tourists alike, so she decided to get a few of them as well. They could be used as tops, skirts, or even dresses, and were so thin and light that they were comfortable to wear anytime and anywhere.

Just as she finished getting ready, there was a knock on the door. "Miss?" Alfred called through the wood. "It appears that the beach is a bit overcrowded today. Master Bruce was wondering if you'd be willing to swim in the pool instead. It was filled early this morning, and is now quite ready to be used."

Amara could have leaped with joy. She wouldn't have to show herself to a crowd of strangers and risk being stared at and judged! Even if she had to show her suit to Bruce, she at least had the option of going back inside to change.

"That's fine, Alfred," she called back to him. "I'll be out in a minute!"

"No rush, Miss," he hurriedly assured her. "Take your time, and I'll bring out something cool to drink in a bit."

Giving herself one last look in the mirror, Amara turned and headed outside.

* * *

Even though she had a good view of the city and the beach from her room, Amara thought the pool was a very good view as well. It was set into white cement, and there were palm trees scattered about, providing shade to the lawn chairs and small tables set under them. No flower bushes or plants were kept nearby, probably to keep insects away from the water, which she thought was a good idea.

Stepping out onto the porch, Amara saw something moving under the water and moved closer, arriving at the pool just in time to see Bruce Wayne surface for a breath.

He shook the water from his eyes and grinned at the sight of her. "Oh, there you are!" he cheerfully greeted her. "Come on in, the water's great in this heat."

Just the thought of him being half-naked in there made Amara swallow hard. "Uh, not right now, thanks," she said, trying to sound calm and cheerful. "I just ate breakfast, and I heard it's not good for you to get in the water after eating."

"There you are," quipped Alfred as he came onto the porch, looking quite comfortable in his usual white outfit. "I've got some lemonade here, and some extra things for you, Miss Amara."

The silver tray in his hands held a pitcher filled with ice and lemonade, two tall glasses, plus a bottle of suntan lotion, a pair of sunglasses, and a book. From his arm dangled a large, floppy straw hat. Eager to help him, Amara took the tray and set it down on a nearby table. When his hands were emptied, Alfred removed the hat from his arm and handed it to her.

"Here you are, to keep off the sun," Alfred said cheerfully. "And the lotion, too, of course. I also took note of which books you were reading at home and purchased an extra copy of a few of them so that you had something to do in case of a rainy day."

Touched by his kindness, Amara reached out and hugged him. "Thank you, Alfred."

She felt him timidly return the hug and pat her back. "It was a pleasure," he whispered.

Releasing him from her grasp, Amara put on the hat, grabbed the book, lotion, and sunglasses, then turned to find a chair.

She had not expected to see a dripping wet Bruce Wayne standing there, clad in a blue form-fitting swim suit.

Frozen where she stood, Amara's eyes lingered on the finely crafted six-pack abs and the droplets of water that trickled down them, where they disappeared into the material of his swim outfit. Very slowly glancing up upwards, she saw a small smile on Bruce's face when he caught her staring.

Blushing, she tilted her hat down and went to find a chair, one that was as far away from him as possible.

* * *

For some reason, Bruce couldn't help but smile when he saw Amara eyeing him like that. Granted, there had been numerous women who'd seen him shirtless, but he found Amara's shyness rather sweet and charming. Most women simply grinned, winked, or gave him suggestive glances; having a girl blush and look away was entirely new, and he found that he rather liked it.

And to be honest, Amara wasn't the only one who'd gotten a rather nice eyeful. She looked rather enticing herself in the bathing suit she was wearing, which was supposedly a two-piece set, according to Alfred. The top half was red with a bit of black trim on the top, and was a very good fit on her. There was probably a matching bottom to it, but he couldn't see it under the sarong wrapped around her waist –the floating black material with red hibiscus flowers printed on it went beautifully with her suit.

Risking a glance at Alfred, Bruce saw a rather disapproving look in his butler's eyes and smiled before diving back into the water.

* * *

AN: Hmm, see, I told you it'd be yummy! Possibly more of this later on, but for now, please be kind and review! Thanks!


	14. Sun and Fun

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing related to _**Batman**_ and that universe. Only original characters are mine.

AN: A little bit more yummy images of Bruce Wayne in this chapter, but not much. Enjoy, and please don't forget to review! Thanks a bunch!

**Chapter 14: Sun and Fun:**

Trying to focus on her book, Amara carefully kept her eyes averted from the extremely drool-worthy sight of a dripping wet Bruce Wayne. It was harder than she expected, especially since he seemed to be very fond of the water and was frequently diving into it. When he was in the water, she was safe; when he was out of the water, though, it was like her eyes went in his direction against her will.

And he was a very good bit of eye-candy. For a billionaire with very little to do during the day, Amara expected him to be at least a little bit out of shape. Weren't all rich men at least a little flabby around the stomach area?

'_Count me wrong on that one_,' she thought while eyeing his fit form. '_Those kinds of abs belong on television in one of those exercise commercials or something, not in real life_!'

So how did Bruce Wayne keep in shape? Never once had she seen him lift a weight, run on a treadmill, or do anything that even remotely resembled exercise. How did he do it? No one was born with that kind of body, not unless they were half Greek god.

Amara snorted at the idea. '_Bruce, a Greek god. Yeah, right_!'

Still, he did have the body of one, and she really did admire it. Not that there was anything wrong with looking, mind you. Looking was simple and harmless, unless she gave him an encouraging flirting glance as she did so. After that, looking turned into something else entirely.

But Amara wasn't like that. Nope, looking was fine with her, mostly because she knew that anyone who looked that hot in swim trunks would never look at her the way she did at him. Guys like that only went for scantily-clad bikini-wearing girls, not modestly dressed ones like her. Oh, well.

"Something to drink, Amara?" She looked up and saw Alfred there with a glass of cold lemonade. "You look like you need it."

"You called me Amara," she said, smiling at him.

"That I did," he replied. "Since we've become such good friends, I think it only fair."

Looking at her arms, Amara realized that she needed to put on some sunblock, and fast. "Would you mind rubbing suntan lotion on my back? I can get the rest, but the back is beyond my reach."

"I'll do it," put in another male voice. "Where's the bottle?"

Amara began to panic. '_Oh, god, this could not be happening_,' she frantically thought, trying not to look up. '_No way, I'm in some sort of nightmare and I'll hopefully be waking up soon_.'

But no, it wasn't a dream. Bruce actually wanted to rub suntan lotion on her. Should she be thrilled, or screaming in horror? Why would he want to help her with such a small thing like sunblock?

Swallowing, Amara lifted her eyes, ready to protest, and froze. Bruce was already beside her, seated on a lawn chair that had been drawn up next to hers. There was a friendly, kind smile on his lips, and nothing mischievous in his eyes, so that made her feel better. At least he wasn't going to pull any sort of mean prank on her (she hoped).

Taking a deep, calming breath, Amara turned her back towards him and gathered up her hair, lifting it so that he had access to her neck, shoulders, and back. The sound of liquid being squirted from a bottle reached her ears, and a split second later, gentle fingers were carefully spreading a cool cream over her skin.

What surprised her most was how soothing and nice it felt. Amara had figured that Bruce would have nice hands, possibly from visiting a manicurist or some sort of thing, but she hadn't expected them to be so careful with her, not to mention soft. True, they were a little callused, probably from whatever workouts he did to keep in shape, but for the most part, his fingertips were pleasant on her skin.

As those fingers expertly glided along, dispersing the lotion evenly as they moved about, and Amara instantly felt her face flush. An extremely good-looking man was rubbing suntan lotion on her, and he was rather good at it.

'_Probably because he's done it a thousand times already_,' whispered a small, dark place in her mind.

Well, _that_ certainly ruined the little fantasy she'd had brewing in her imagination. Of course Bruce was good at applying suntan lotion –there had probably been an endless stream of women who asked him to 'help' them with theirs. No wonder Bruce's fingers were able to find places under the shoulder straps of her suit that needed protection from the sun; he'd had plenty of practice in finding them.

"There, all finished," he said while pulling away. Amara almost sighed in relief, until he continued, "Anywhere else you need it that you can't reach?"

"No! No, I've got it," she insisted, turning around to snatch the bottle from his hand. "Thanks, you can go back to swimming now."

Quickly turning away, Amara poured a bit of lotion into her palm and pulled back the edges of her sarong skirt. Propping her foot up on the lawn chair, she began spreading a dollop of it along her calf.

* * *

Now, Bruce had seen plenty of women's legs in his life, most of them while said women were applying all sorts of lotion to them. Amara's leg, however, seemed to draw his eyes like a magnet draws metal.

It wasn't a perfectly slim leg, or a long one, but it was an attractive leg, nonetheless. It was finely shaped, almost like those ancient Greek or Roman statues with a reclining goddess resting on a couch. The calf was smooth, curved, and enticingly surrounded by all of that red and black material. Add a touch of shine from the lotion she was applying, and it was easy to see why his eyes had been pulled towards it.

Moving upwards, Bruce saw a very nice matching thigh, part of which was hidden under the short red-and-black skirt of her suit. Downwards brought him to her rather pretty foot, propped up on the lawn chair as Amara spread the protective liquid over it.

"Care for some ice cold lemonade, sir?" Alfred asked, breaking into his thoughts.

Bruce eagerly accepted the glass being offered to him. "Thank you, Alfred," he said. It was most definitely time for something cold.

"Sir, I was wondering if you planned on taking Miss Amara to any significant and typical tourist activities," his butler inquired. "You know: the aquarium, the zoo, or a luau. Perhaps even a visit to the cultural center they have on the other side of the island?"

Oh, now there was a good idea. Bruce always did like learning about other cultures, so perhaps a visit to the cultural center would be something they both enjoyed. Best of all, the center was said to have a fantastic luau, and everyone knew that, if you go to Hawaii, you have to attend at least one luau.

"Alfred, do me a favor," he whispered, turning his head so that Amara couldn't hear him. "Book a day for us at the Polynesian Cultural Center, and make sure that the luau is included in the deal. I want to take her to something that will amaze her."

"Very good, sir," Alfred said. "I'll arrange everything. When would you like to do this? Tomorrow perhaps?"

Bruce nodded. "Perfect," he said, glancing over at his guest, who was now smearing lotion on the other leg. "And make sure to buy more suntan lotion. I've a feeling we're going to need it."

* * *

They spent the rest of the day by the pool, only going inside to eat lunch or cool off a bit before returning to the outdoors. It was hot, to say the least, but with a constant wind off of the ocean, along with the shade provided by the trees and the cold drinks being poured by Alfred, it was actually a very good day. Amara had even taken a few dips into the water, and by the end of the day, she was pleased to note that she had a very nice tan going. The only thing that marred her day was the constant distraction that was Bruce Wayne, but she managed to keep herself together by focusing on the book she was reading.

When it began to grow dark, they all headed inside to clean up and get ready for dinner. That night, Alfred served up a wonderful fish filet in a light lemon cream sauce, asparagus sautéed with garlic, and lightly roasted red potatoes, all of it fresh from the hotel's kitchen. Dessert was a trio of sorbets in pineapple, melon, and coconut flavors. It was all incredibly light and filling.

Much to Amara's surprise, Bruce announced that they would have to call it a night early, because tomorrow they would have an early start.

"I thought you might like a trip to the Polynesian Cultural Center," he said. "It's a learning center that teaches all about the seven different countries that make up Polynesia, which Hawaii is a part of. I've heard that it's very educational and fun, and the luau they have there is supposed to be one of the best."

Well, it did sound interesting, and Amara found herself excited about going. Bruce smiled at her accepting the idea of visiting there, and told her to wear light clothes, as they would be outdoors.

Amara nodded her understanding to be prepared for heat, humidity, and even the possibility of rain, so she bid both Bruce and Alfred a goodnight before heading off to get ready for her next vacation adventure.

* * *

Everyone woke bright and early the next morning, ate a hearty breakfast, and headed downstairs to the car. One of the best things about traveling with a billionaire was the fact that you didn't have to travel on a tour bus or wait in a long line for anything. It made Amara feel quite spoiled, but since waiting in line was always a pain, she let it slide this one time.

The ride to the cultural center was beautiful and inspiring. Alfred pointed out beaches, docks, rivers, valleys, and all sorts of other physical landmarks that were used in a dozen different movies, some of which Amara had seen. It was very exciting, and she couldn't help but wonder what awaited them at the end of their drive.

Arriving at the Culture Center, Amara was escorted out of the car by Bruce, who was looking very handsome and comfortably cool in beige khakis, a while shirt, white tennis shoes, and sunglasses. They both waited for Alfred to park the car and join them, a small backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Just some basic necessities, Amara," the older man explained. "Three carefully wrapped ponchos in case it rains; two frozen bottles of water; sunscreen; and a hat or two to ward off the sun. Everything else can be bought at one of the gift shops."

She felt bad about him carrying a pack in the heat, but as they walked inside, Amara noticed that the sky was beginning to cloud up a little, and though it was still humid, at least it was slightly cooler than before. Feeling a tiny bit better for Alfred, she followed Bruce inside, where they were met by a young woman in a blue shirt.

"Mr. Wayne?" she asked, smiling when he nodded at her. "I'm Thelma, but you can call me Elle. I'll be your guide for the day, showing you the seven different sections of the Center so that you can learn all about the Polynesian cultures that are part of Hawaii. At five o'clock, I'll take you to the dining hall where you'll eat, and from there you'll simply follow the crowd to the entertainment auditorium. Okay?"

It was an extremely fun and educational day after that. The Center was primarily outdoors, and was divided into seven sections, each one with presentations on how the local peoples of those lands lived, ate, worked, and dressed. One section had a man with very large muscles in a grass skirt and leafy headdress, showing visitors the many ways to pick, peel, and shell a coconut using only the most basic and crudest of tools. He even managed to light a fire by using the straw-like outer layer of a coconut and a wooden stick!

But Amara's most favorite part of the day was the parade held near the end of the tour. A large man-made river flowed through the Center, and on that river were small barges with flat tops more than wide enough for six people to stand upon. It was on these barges that the parade was shown to the crowd, with young men and women performing cultural dances in wonderful, authentic outfits local to those countries. Amara had never seen people dance on barges before, and she couldn't help but wonder how no one managed to fall off, even as they moved along the water.

At the end, exotic flowers were thrown into the water as the final barges went buy, signaling the end of the day and allowing all of the visitors to enjoy a relaxing half hour or so before dinner.

Of course, with over half a dozen different cultures swirling through her head, Amara was never so happy to sit down and eat a meal in her life. When they entered the part of the Center where dinner would be served, she, Bruce and Alfred were greeted by smiling females in Hawaiian dresses and given leis made of beautiful purple-and-white flowers. They were then shown to a crowded table, and told to go and eat and drink as much as they pleased.

"The show will start in just over an hour, so you have plenty of time," said one of the attendants. "Enjoy yourselves."

The food was delicious, fresh, and all of it familiar, from the salmon-and-tomato salad to the spicy beef slices. The only thing she didn't recognize was a drink made from all sorts of exotic fruits, mixed together and served in a whole, hollowed out pineapple. Bruce offered to buy her one, but Amara refused, saying she couldn't possibly eat or drink any more than she already had.

When all three of them were full to bursting, Bruce took her hand and escorted her to the arena where the performances would go on. There had been a few groups performing Hawaiian dances and songs during the meal, but this was where the more exciting things would happen. They were shown to their seats, about ten rows back from the large stage, where Alfred happily dropped his pack to the ground.

"I'm glad that we managed to empty this thing throughout the day," Alfred whispered from her right.

Amara softly giggled. On her left, Bruce smiled and shook his head. The two of them had managed to use a good deal of the sunscreen, and drink all of the water from the bottles, so it really was a good deal lighter than before. It also helped that Amara was wearing one of the caps from the bag, which had served double duty as a hat and a hand-held, makeshift fan.

Before them, the stage was like nothing she had ever seen before. While the audience was under a large awning that covered each seat, the stage was open to the skies. It looked as though the entire stage had been built at the foot of a large hill of stone and native foliage, with caves and a large arch from which the actors and entertainers could enter. It was like nothing Amara had ever seen before, and it was breathtaking.

Then the lights dimmed and the show began.

Singers, dancers, torch twirlers, and coal-walkers all performed their arts flawlessly, much to her delight. Though she was very impressed with the man spinning and dancing with torches, Amara particularly loved the female dancers and the way they told a story with a movement of their hands and arms. It was all amazing, and she adored every minute of it.

When the last of the performers took their final bows and it was time to go, Amara felt as though she were going to fall over in exhaustion. Between the food, the heat, and the excitement of the day, she was physically and mentally drained, ready for a night of rest and eager for a day of sleeping in tomorrow.

Amara was so tired that, when she fell asleep during the ride back, she didn't even notice her head falling onto Bruce's waiting shoulder.

* * *

It was impossible not to be thrilled with what had just happened. Even though many women had put their heads or pressed their cheeks to his shoulders, Bruce found this to be a particularly nice experience. Sighing, Bruce sat back and enjoyed the moment, relishing in the fact that Amara wasn't snuggling up to him in a falsely affectionate way, nor was she smearing tons of makeup onto his clothes just so she could flutter her eyelashes up at him as she tried to flirt.

No, this was far nicer. All was peaceful in the car, and outside the window was a full moon, pouring light onto the darkened sea. Waves splashed up onto the beaches, and a few risky couples were strolling along, hand-in-hand under the lights of the moon and the streetlamps close to the sand. It was like a scene out of a movie.

A soft, contented sigh drew him back to the inside of the car. In her sleep, Amara snuggled into his shoulder, a tiny smile on her lips as she dozed in the comfortable seats. Soft music was playing from the radio, and Bruce had the sudden feeling that his butler was up to something.

Glancing into the rearview mirror, he knew he was right. The old man was smirking, obviously quite pleased with either himself or the present situation. It was really quite frustrating to watch.

"Stop that," Bruce whispered to him. "You always make me nervous when you smile like that."

"Sorry, sir," Alfred apologized, "but you must admit, the two of you make a very nice and cozy sight."

Ignoring that last part, Bruce settled back into the seat, occasionally checking to make sure that Amara's head didn't fall off his shoulder or that she leaned the other way and smacked her head against the door or window. He'd never forgive himself if she even got even a small sunburn under his watch.

'_Okay, maybe that is a bit much, but I still feel responsible for her_,' he thought, listening to the soothing music of the radio and Amara's calm breathing.

And Bruce did feel responsible for her well-being. Even if he shouldn't, he did, and there was nothing more that he wanted on this vacation than to have her forget the trouble he had put her into, all simply by inviting her to a party at his home.

"Do you think she's having a good time, Alfred?" Bruce softly muttered, leaning forward as far as he dared without waking Amara. Since the older man knew her better, it was only natural to ask him.

"Oh, I'd say so, sir," was the quiet reply. "She was all excited about today's trip, and I think she's the sort who enjoys learning something new, no matter what it is."

Bruce sat back in the seat, smiling. It was nice being with someone who liked seeing and experiencing new things. How many women would put up with the heat and humidity of the day to learn about different cultures, not to mention waking so early in the morning to do it? None of the females Bruce associated with would have gone with him to the Cultural Center, that's for sure.

'_They'd lie on the beach, tanning themselves, sipping expensive drinks and ordering the towel and cabana boys around_,' he thought, rolling his eyes. '_All of that would be sparsely interrupted by swimming in the ocean or pool, depending on where they are at the time_.'

Bruce yawned. '_It's nice having someone intelligent to have fun with, especially one that looks so good in a red bathing suit_.'

It was his last conscious thought before being woken up at the hotel.

* * *

The hour-long nap in the car had been just what Amara needed after such a long day.

The ride there had been filled with information and gorgeous sights, like tremendous hills covered in lush foliage, or incredible views of the sea as it shimmered and changed to different colors of blue under the sun. On the way back, all had been dark and peaceful, perfect for rest and very light dreams. She'd barely closed her eyes before she was being shaken awake by Alfred, who was also trying to wake his boss.

"Wake up, you two," the butler gently scolded. "We're here, and I refuse to let you sleep in the back of a car when you could be safe up in your beds."

Although the seat of the car was very comfortable, Amara much preferred her waiting bed. So with great difficulty, she yawned, opened her eyes, and took a deep breath, all of which woke her just enough to sit up and scoot towards the car door. There, an awaiting Alfred took her hand and assisted her out onto the pavement.

"Steady there," he warned. "Are you sure you'll make it upstairs alright?"

Yawning, she nodded. "I'm fine," she said, just as Bruce made his way out the same door.

When he found his footing, Amara found herself the focus of those attractive hazel eyes of his. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, and she couldn't help but wonder what he found so amusing.

"You've got a mark," he explained to her puzzled expression. "Right here."

Gentle fingers reached out and caressed her cheek, trailing down to her mouth. It was both an innocent and sensual touch, the sort of touch that makes a woman catch her breath and wonder if she was going to be kissed or not. From the way Bruce was smiling, Amara couldn't help but swallow nervously.

Someone cleared their throat nearby, snapping her back to reality. Looking over, she spotted Alfred looking at her with raised eyebrows and couldn't hold back a blush.

"Time to head upstairs," he firmly told her. "It's getting quite late."

Flushing, she followed him into the hotel and the elevator, Bruce bringing up the rear.

As they headed up the elevator, Amara wondered how delusional she could possibly be. Honestly, why would she think that Bruce Wayne of all people would want to kiss _her_? A billionaire wanting to kiss a librarian, how silly an idea was that?

By the time they reached the penthouse, all logic left her exhausted mind. Amara barely had the strength and will to undress, brush her teeth and fall into bed. Anything concerning Bruce would simply have to wait until morning.

* * *

AN: Okay, I thought I should mention that I fully intend for Amara and Bruce to enjoy their little holiday together without much thought about The Joker.

I know how much people love the makeup-wearing villain, but honestly, it's impossible for him to get to Hawaii without attracting attention. Thus, any major happenings with The Joker will simply have to wait until the two get back to Gotham City. Trust me when I say that I have something major planned, but it won't be set into motion until much later.

In the meantime, please be patient, enjoy the story, and bear with me. Thanks.

PS: If anyone goes to Oahu, the Polynesian Cultural Center really is very fun to go to, and their luau actually has authentic Hawaiian food, not just fried chicken like other luaus. No alcohol is served there, but it's still fun and I highly recommend it if you're ever visiting the islands.


	15. Beach Dangers

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Wow, thanks to everyone for the great reviews! They mean so much to me, and I like knowing that there are people out there who read and enjoy this story (and possibly my odd little author's notes). Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you'll continue to review and enjoy this story.

PS: I have no idea if there are such things as private, exclusive beaches in Hawaii, but I wanted to give the pair some time alone on a beach, so here it is. In this case, I went for fantasy over fact, so I hope you'll all forgive me (winks).

**Chapter 15: Beach Dangers:**

The next morning, Amara woke to sunlight and the delightful feeling of actually being on vacation. It always took her a few days to get into a 'vacation mood,' and it had finally arrived today. Her insides felt warm and excited, happy and eager to discover what else Hawaii had to offer. It was said that the zoo on Oahu was wonderful, as was the aquarium; she would have to see if Bruce would take her to one of them.

A gentle tap on her door preceded Alfred's entry into the room, a tray in his hands as he smiled a 'good morning' to her. The tray had a cup of something on top of it, and Amara gave him a questioning glance before letting her eyes drift towards the tray.

"Just some peppermint hot chocolate, Amara," he assured her. "I thought a pick-me-up would be nice before you got up and started your day."

She smiled and reached for the cup. "Alfred, I swear I could kiss you."

"Best not," he told her with a wink. "Master Wayne might get the wrong idea."

After drinking the cocoa, Amara couldn't help but admire how something could be hot but still taste cold at the same time. It was delicious, and exactly what she needed to get up and running. With a bit of sugar in her, she quickly showered, pulled on a pair of Capri jeans and a pale peach top, then headed off to breakfast, which appeared to be waiting for her.

So, too, was Mr. Bruce Wayne. He had a paper in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other, and a slight business-like frown on his face. Apparently what he was reading was not very good for his company. Amara decided to keep quiet and not distract him.

Eating her way through her meal of fresh waffles, strawberries, and whipped cream, Amara watched Bruce's expression change as he read. The scowl turned thoughtful, then slightly pleased, and gave way to a slight smile. It seemed that whatever had been bothering him about the article had become rather good news, which was a relief. The last thing she needed was to spend a day with a grumpy Bruce Wayne.

"And what do the two of you plan to do today?" Alfred asked as Bruce set aside his paper. The butler refilled his employer's cup with steaming coffee and turned towards Amara. "More importantly, what do _you_ want to do, Amara?"

Bruce himself turned to look at her as well. "Alfred's got a point," he said. "So far we've done whatever I've planned for us; it's not fair to leave you without a voice. What would you like to do today?"

Amara was very unprepared for the question. Hawaii was a place she knew next to nothing about, tourist-wise, and had depended on the two men before her to plan out a fun, exciting and boredom-free vacation. The idea of them asking for her ideas had not occurred to her.

Still, there was one thing she wanted to do while she was here.

"Can we go to the beach?" she asked. "I mean, I'd love to walk in the sand and dip into the ocean while we're here. I can't go back to Gotham and tell Julie that I never made it to the beach; she'd never forgive me."

Alfred chuckled as Bruce grinned broadly. "Alright," Bruce said with a nod. "The beach it is. Although, not the hotel's beach. I've got something else in mind."

* * *

While Alfred packed the car full of beach necessities, Amara changed into her swimsuit. After a quick look in the mirror, however, she realized that she wanted something lighter to ward off the heat of the sun. She had secretly purchased another swimsuit at the mall while Alfred wasn't looking, and it was lighter than the red one she'd worn only two days ago. It wasn't as flattering, but it wasn't too bad, either.

Choosing the lighter suit more for comfort than for how good she looked in it, Amara quickly changed, tied on a sarong of dark golden brown with beige flowers printed on it, pulled on some flip-flops, and ran out into the hallway. She was relieved to see that the others were still not there, so at least she wasn't holding them up. Alfred was probably still downstairs instructing the bellboys on how to best load the car, and Bruce –well, who knew what he was up to in his room?

Suddenly feeling rather thirsty, Amara went into the kitchen for a drink. She'd make it back to the elevators in time to head downstairs. Right now, a tall glass of something cold was calling her.

* * *

Looking at the foot of his bed, Bruce sighed. He couldn't decide which suit to wear, and it was frustrating. Sometimes he wished he'd only brought one, but since salt water and chlorine weren't very gentle on swimsuits, he had three to choose from. The blue suit was now officially for pool use; that left the white pair with black sport stripes on the sides, and the black pair.

"Okay, black would be too hot, so the white pair it is," he quietly voiced to the room while picking up the chosen shorts.

Slipping them on, Bruce remembered how embarrassed Amara had been when seeing him shirtless, and decided to wear a shirt to the beach and bring another one, just in case. If they headed off somewhere to eat after the beach, at least he'd be fairly decent.

'_No doubt Amara will look good no matter what she wore_,' Bruce thought before he could stop himself.

Shaking his head, he headed out into the hallway, buttoning up his shirt as he went. Just as he reached the elevator to wait, Bruce spotted something in the corner of his eye. Glancing over, he saw it was Amara, dressed in an entirely different suit than before. She was busily adjusting her sarong, tying it around her waist and not noticing anything around her. Glad for her distracted state, Bruce eyed her closely.

The suit was clearly a one-piece. Light golden-brown in color with a slight metallic golden sheen, it was very stylish, and it fit her quite well. The sarong around her waist, dark brown with beige flowers on it, tied securely around her waist and very prettily completed the outfit.

"Oh, there you are!" she exclaimed, pulling his eyes up from her skirt and back towards her face. "Is it time to go? Or should we wait for Alfred to call us?"

By this time, Bruce's mouth had gone dry, so it was a good thing that Alfred appeared when he did, announcing it was time to get going.

* * *

It had been decided by all three of them that a private beach would be preferable to the overcrowded public ones. There would still be people, of course, but it was secluded and quieter, perfect for rest and relaxation, which Bruce felt was needed for them all.

The ride there would be at least an hour, with traffic, so they passed the time listening to the radio and chatting about what they'd seen so far. All of them had brought something to read, so whenever they were at a standstill on the roads with nothing to talk about, out popped the books in the back seat. Alfred, however, didn't have the luxury of reading, so Bruce and Amara let him choose the radio station to make up for it. So far, it was working out rather well.

During the ride, some of their talk turned towards their visit to the Polynesian Cultural Center. Amara was still reeling from the experience, and chatted about how fun their guide had been and how wonderful the dancers were. Bruce told her that it was run by the Mormons as a non-profit educational theme park, and that the Center's funds went towards paying for the education of the students at the Brigham Young University in Hawaii. Amara was thrilled about that, and said it was worth every penny, since it was all going to help someone with their education.

"And the students working at the park come from all sorts of other countries and cultures," Alfred put in. "Some are from Thailand, Singapore and a lot of other places, all here to get an education to take back with them. It's a very good thing that they're doing there."

Seeing the impressed look on Amara's face, Bruce felt rather good about himself. To impress other women, he'd had to talk about his company or flash expensive cars in front of them. Impressing Amara was entirely different, and he liked that very much. Give her a diamond necklace and she'd tell him to take it right back; give money to a needy student, and Amara would be happy enough for two people. Of those scenarios, Bruce much preferred the latter one.

Finally, they arrived at the beach. Alfred showed a pass to a guard, and was allowed to enter the lot to park the car. A few other vehicles were already there, but not many; Bruce was immensely satisfied with this and made a note to return her with Amara later on in the trip.

When they were parked, Amara begged for Alfred to let her help with the beach stuff that had been packed into the trunk. There wasn't a great deal, mostly a few towels to lie on and dry off with, a small picnic basket with light sandwiches and frozen water bottles, a hat for each of them, and suntan lotion. There was an umbrella to help keep the sun off, but Bruce insisted on carrying that while Alfred took the basket. Amara carried the towels, which were all tied together with a length of rope, and the lotion. The hats went on top of their heads.

"Off we go, then," Alfred cheerfully said.

* * *

Since she was from the West Coast, Amara was used to sand. She'd visited beaches in Oregon, California and Washington, so sand wasn't anything new to her.

However, the shores of Hawaii were quite different.

Hawaiian sand, she discovered, was coarser than Pacific Coast sand. The beaches the West Coast had sand that was fine and easily slid through your fingers. Hawaii had sand that could hurt feet that were unaccustomed to it. It helped that the bigger grains slid easily out of her sandals, but it was still uncomfortable.

Yet despite its roughness, the sand was beautiful, white, and perfect for lying on. Spread out a towel, flop down on it, and a girl was ready to relax, the sea before her shimmering like sapphires and a dozen other blue gemstones in the sunlight. It was breathtaking.

Alfred plopped down on her left while Bruce took her right, their umbrella stuck firmly between Amara's left arm and Alfred's right. The basket sat just behind the umbrella's pole, out of reach and always in the shade to keep cool. Once everything had been perfectly situated, Amara rolled up one of their extra towels, tucked it behind her head and laid down with a sigh, closing her eyes in contentment.

It was ideal and surreal, the quietness of the beach. Nearby, she heard a few children playing in the sand and in the water, their feet kicking and splashing around as they laughed and giggled. Someone had brought a radio, but was playing it just soft enough to be pleasant background noise, nothing more. It was rather soothing, actually, and Amara found herself smiling at the mere perfectness of it.

"Amara?" Alfred softly muttered from beside her.

"Hmm?" she replied, not wanting to put the effort into speaking.

"You might want to put some lotion on," he suggested. "Between the sun and the glare coming off of the sea and the white sand, you'll probably burn in no time."

Drat, the man was right. Sighing, Amara opened her eyes and sat up. "Okay, but you'll need to put some on my back," she warned. He smiled and picked up the bottle of lotion.

Fifteen minutes later, the last of it was finally applied. Every part of her that was likely to see the sun had a protective coat, though her face felt as if it were oozing the stuff. Amara knew she burned easily, though, and thought it better to be overprotected than to burn painfully later.

At last, she lay back on her towel and sighed, picking up her hat and putting it over her face. Beside her, Bruce chuckled and removed the hat, twirling it on one finger as Amara squawked a protest. Laughing, he held it out of reach above his head, which she thought unfair since he was a lot taller than she was.

"Come on, let's go for a swim," he said, still keeping the hat away from her. "It'll be fun."

Not given a choice, Amara sighed. "Okay, fine," she gave in. "But no splashing, dunking, or pranks having to do with water, got it?"

Bruce set aside her hat and stood, holding a hand out to help her up. "You have my word."

Reluctantly, Amara took his hand and let him pull her onto her feet. Quickly, she removed her sarong and dropped it on top of her towel, silently wondering what he was up to.

"Come on," he whispered, reaching out to take her hand.

Taking a deep breath, Amara followed him to the shore, where she waited for a wave to come in and splash up over her feet. To her surprise, the water was warm, soft and caressing on the skin almost like lukewarm bath water. It was perfect for warding off the heat of the sun, and she could easily see how people could spend the entire day in the water.

'_It's so different from the beaches back home_,' she thought while wading up to above her ankles. In the back of her mind, she recalled how the sea could b so cold that swimming was out of the question; anyone that did swim in the Pacific was dubbed insane. Children got numbed toes and shivered after playing in it.

Here it was different, and she fully intended on taking advantage of it while she could.

Glancing over at Bruce, she saw him studying her closely. "What?" she asked suspiciously. The last time someone looked at her that way, her brother had lifted her up and dumped her into the ocean back home.

"Nothing," he quickly assured her. "How do you like the water?"

Amara couldn't help smiling. "It's perfect," she replied, swishing her foot around a bit.

Something swam through her legs and did a figure-8 around them, glinting silver in the clear blue water. It paused beside her, then zipped off, making her gasp.

"What, what's wrong?" Bruce asked, rushing up to her side.

"Oh, nothing," she assured him. "I think I just saw a fish!"

He laughed. "Come on; let's see if we can find more."

Amara didn't know how long they wandered through the water, staring down at the dancing waves to find elusive treasures. Fish of all shapes, sizes and colors swam by, many with distinctive markings that caught the eye and held a human's attention until it disappeared into deeper waters. Amara worried about encountering a crab or two, but Bruce assured her that they preferred much quieter waters.

Their searches ended when their stomachs began to growl. Regretfully leaving the water behind, they headed back to the umbrella and the awaiting Alfred, who sat there with cold bottles of water and chilled sandwiches of ham, roast beef, or turkey, all perfectly made with all the condiments. When they were full and refreshed from their meal, Amara let Bruce take her back to the sea, hopeful of possibly spotting a turtle, or perhaps a dolphin.

"I've always wanted to see dolphins," she sighed as their feet touched the water. "They're some of my favorite sea animals."

"What are the others?" Bruce asked as they went up to their knees.

"Oh, I love whales," she replied, watching a brightly-colored fish dart past. "Beluga whales, especially. I just love their pure white color and the smiles they seem to have on their faces."

He chuckled. Amara kept her gaze on the rippling water, so focused on the water before her that she didn't notice the intense look Bruce was giving her.

* * *

With Amara so preoccupied with the sea fauna, Bruce was able to get a much better look at her. Their hands were still joined, and though he really didn't mind the contact, he had the feeling that Amara didn't even notice. Still, she seemed to be enjoying herself in looking for tropical fish, so he decided not to bring it up.

But looking at her was much more fan than looking at fish. By now, hours of sunlight had begun to form highlights in her brown hair, turning it a bit paler and adding a touch of red here and there. It was strange the way her hair looked like shimmering water, going from brown to red to a lighter brown, then back again, all in a few seconds. The bathing suit was a good choice, its metallic coating over the golden brown color enhancing her tanning skin and her lightening hair.

And for the first time in Bruce's life, watching a woman apply sunscreen had never been more enjoyable, or frustrating. Amara had been so focused on applying the lotion that she'd seemed to forgotten that Bruce was sitting right there, watching as she rubbed it on her arms, legs, neck, and upper chest, his eyes following her hands as they rubbed. He especially enjoyed looking at her face as she put the lotion on, though he didn't know why.

By now, Bruce was getting more and more nervous. These odd feelings and bits of attraction towards Amara were not good, especially because of the secrets he was carrying and what he did during the darkest times of the night. Could he trust her with his deepest secret? He knew she liked Batman, and liked him as Bruce Wayne, but what if they were the same person? Would she ever look at him or treat him the same again? Bruce seriously doubted that.

Just then, something out of the corner of his eye snapped him out of his thoughts and dragged his eyes towards the water. He'd seen something larger than the normal fish swim past, and the fact that he didn't know what it was unnerved him.

At that point, Bruce spotted a grey fin poke out of the water. Not wanting to alarm Amara, kept his mouth shut and his movements swift, his hands shooting out into the water to grab the creature.

He wasn't fast enough. A cry of pain came from her lips, and he knew that the small shark had gotten to her, possibly even bitten her. Fearful that Amara had been seriously hurt, Bruce looked down, spotted his target, and snapped his arms out, his reflexes accurate and fast thanks to his years of ninja and martial arts training.

Success was his; the small shark was in his grip, thrashing to get loose, and failing. Bruce tightened his hold on it, lifted it from the water, and winced as it scraped him with its small, but very sharp teeth. Angry, he stepped back and hurled it a good fifteen feet away. When he was sure it wasn't going to come back, Bruce raced over to Amara, worry written on every inch of his face.

"Are you alright?" he blurted out, looking her over. "Are you hurt? I heard you cry out and…"

Amara winced and lifted her right leg, showing a few small scrapes where the shark's teeth had brushed her, and what looked like the pinpricks of tiny sharp teeth; apparently the shark had tested to see if she was soft or good enough to eat. Lucky for her, the creature had been small, about the length of his forearm, and cautious enough to try and test its prey before attacking.

Fearing Amara was more seriously hurt than she looked, Bruce quickly swept her up into his arms, holding her bridal style against his chest as he exited the water. Amara squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck, clearly worried that he'd drop her. By the time they got to shore, Alfred was waiting for them, a towel in his hands and a concerned expression on his face. No one else on the beach had heard Amara cry out during her encounter with the shark, so that was good; the last thing they needed was panic.

"Miss, are you alright?" Alfred pressed, eyes going towards her leg. The cuts had stopped bleeding, and Bruce doubted they'd scar, but she did need to be seen to.

"I'm fine, just shaken up," she whispered, tightening her grip on Bruce's neck as they walked onto the sand. "I think I'd like to sit down, if you don't mind."

Bruce wasted no time in getting her to their towels and gently setting her down. Once she was securely on her towel, Alfred set about washing her cuts out with the cold water and gently patting them dry. They had nothing to cover it with, but he did wrap one of the clean spare towels around her leg as a temporary bandage.

"I'm fine," Amara insisted, though she was still clearly shaken up by the whole thing.

Alfred ignored her. "We need to get you back to the city as soon as possible," he told her. "You need to be checked out for infection. One never knows what kinds of bacteria lurk in a shark's mouth."

Bruce heartily agreed, and ordered Alfred to pack up. They were ready to go in less than five minutes, and when it came time to head to the car, Bruce carried Amara the whole way.

* * *

It was so weird being in Bruce's arms like this. His grip was firm, his stride purposeful, and Amara had the feeling that if the shark had done more than just graze her with its teeth, Bruce would have torn the creature apart with his bare hands. It was touching that he cared so much about her safety that he'd risk his own safety.

When she was gently set in the car, Amara was surprised when Bruce joined her and swung her so that her leg was propped up on the seat and her back was against his chest. She felt her cheeks turn red as the warmth of his body radiated through the thin material of her suit. The feeling of his skin pressing against her exposed back made her shiver.

As the car pulled out of the lot, she felt Bruce's arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Amara had noticed his very muscular physique at the pool, but never thought he'd be strong enough to carry her out of the sea, onto a beach, and over to a resting spot, right before gently setting her down onto a towel, softly and safely. Batman she could picture, but not Bruce.

The arm around her waist tightened briefly, right before the hand attached to that arm began rubbing her hip. Carefully turning her head, Amara spotted a thoughtful frown on her rescuer's face, and knew he wasn't conscious of what he was doing. Knowing Bruce, he was probably thinking of ways to track down the shark and obliterate it. It was kind of sweet, and rather romantic.

'_Whoa, slow down there_,' she thought to herself. '_Control yourself, girl_!'

Right now, she was totally developing a "hero-crush" on Bruce for saving her life, which was a bad thing. First it had been Batman, now was Bruce Wayne. Who was next, Alfred?

She bit her lower lip. Ew, that was an extremely wrong thought!

Heaving a sigh, Amara leaned back into her rescuer's chest and closed her eyes, trying to fight the slight aches and pains traveling up her wounded leg. Hopefully the doctors would find nothing seriously wrong with her, and only press a few pills on her to help fight infection. After that, she looked forward to a nice long rest back at the penthouse.

* * *

The Gotham City gossip papers were having a field day with their latest scoop. Bruce Wayne, billionaire and one of the most desired men in the city, had been rumored to be vacationing in Hawaii, so of course, all of the papers had sent out for pictures.

What had come in was a jackpot snapshot. A shirtless Bruce Wayne frolicking through the waves of the Pacific Ocean, hand-in-hand with a swimsuit-clad young woman. The lady in question was unknown, since the quality of the picture was low, but the fact that they were together on a beach was enough for the papers and magazines. Headlines screamed that this was his latest love-interest, but most speculated that the relationship was doomed to end soon, as had all of Mr. Wayne's previous liaisons. After all, that was what he was known for.

Female tongues all over Gotham were wagging, particularly those with the hopes of snagging the most eligible bachelor in town. Most didn't believe the headlines, passing it off as a brief fling in the tropics and nothing more. It might just be a Hawaiian local that Mr. Wayne had taken interest in, that's all.

However, there was someone who read the gossip magazines and scowled when he saw the picture. The woman was somehow familiar to him.

With an order to his technical geeks in his gang, the photo was hacked into and run through some computer programs to make the woman's face clearer. It took time, but after a few hours, the results were in.

And when he saw who the woman was, a barrage of knives flew through the air, embedding the sharp blades in the walls and whatever else stood in their way, including a few limbs of some frightened henchmen. Curses and angry words flew from the red painted mouth, and a plan began to form behind white makeup and eyes framed with black paint.

The Joker was angry, and as he twirled a knife through his fingers, he began to create a welcome home surprise inside his twisted mind, one that he knew Gotham and his 'guest of honor' would never forget.

* * *

AN: A little bit of the Joker there, just to add a bit of spice and menace to the chapter. I hope that everyone enjoyed reading this and will review. Thanks!


	16. A Little Hot and Bothered

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing related to _**Batman**_ and that universe. Only original characters are mine.

AN: Oh, man, I'm so sorry for updating so late! Work was chaos before Thanksgiving, and I had no time to write during the 4-day weekend, thus the very late update. I hope that it is worth the wait. Thanks, and please review!

**Chapter 16: A Little Hot and Bothered**:

Their visit to the hospital was brief, but needful. The doctors told Amara that she'd been lucky to be too big for the baby shark to really take an interest in, and prescribed her some medication to prevent infection. One was a cream to go over the teeth marks, another was a pill to be taken in the morning after breakfast and just before bed for a couple days.

"After that, you should be fine," the physicians said with soothing smiles.

Meanwhile, Amara was wondering why she needed three doctors hovering over her. There wasn't even a real bite mark, just a few indentation where the shark had softly bitten into her calf and a few scrapes where its mouth brush against her. It was nothing worth all of the fuss and attention she was getting. Still, she had been admitted very quickly, and been examined, questioned, and treated within the span of forty-five minutes. In the end, she figured that it must have been because she was with Bruce Wayne, and billionaires always got the best medical care.

Bruce had been beside her the whole time, scowling at the floor or the doctors as he held her hand, only letting go when the doctors said it was interfering with their examination of her. Bruce didn't look happy about releasing her hand, but did it anyway, and was quick to reclaim it after the physicians were done. His grip tightened somewhat when the doctors gently wrapped her leg in bandages and told her to get some rest.

"You're free to get up and going tomorrow, but stay out of the ocean and swimming pools for a while," they warned her. "The ocean in particular, but the chlorine in the pools can sting, so avoid them for the next few days."

The ride back to the penthouse was quiet, and once again, Bruce held Amara's hand tightly in his own, apparently afraid that she wouldn't survive if he let go. Alfred took a few glances back at her whenever they stopped at an intersection, giving her a wink and a smile in the rearview mirror that soon had her smiling back.

When they reached the hotel, Bruce surprised her by sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her to a back entrance. "We don't want to cause a scene," he explained as they went inside.

Fortunately, the path they took to the elevator made it easy to avoid people and hotel staff. They reached the elevator with only a few curious looks, but not much more than that. Up to the penthouse they went, and once there, Bruce carried her into the living room, placing her gently on the couch while Alfred set her medicines down on the coffee table.

As she sat up and began to remove her bandages, Amara saw Bruce frowning at her, which made her pause and frown back at him. "What?" she huffed. "I'm not an invalid, Bruce, and the bandages really aren't necessary. Just a little bit of cream on my leg, a few pills, and I'll be fine."

"You're not leaving the couch until you go to bed tonight," he firmly told her. "Alfred is going to order dinner from the hotel kitchens, we'll watch some TV, and then you're off to bed. It's been a long day for you, and you need your rest."

Before Amara could protest, Alfred magically produced several pillows and began to arrange them behind her. "I'll go take care of dinner," he said, glancing at Bruce out of the corner of his eye. "Master Bruce, would you mind fetching her something to nibble on in the meantime? Something to drink, too, to keep her hydrated."

Bruce bit his lip and left, muttering things under his breath. He spoke in a foreign language, but Amara could tell he was cursing and tuned it out, instead focusing her attention on Alfred.

"Thanks," she whispered to him. "I doubt there's another person in the world who could have made him back off like that."

He shook his head and smiled. "He's just been stubborn," Alfred explained. "That's how he gets when someone is hurt right before his eyes. He blames himself for it, even though it wasn't his fault."

Amara nibbled her lower lip. "Is it because of his parents?" she whispered for his ears only.

The look in Alfred's eyes was enough of an answer for her. As Bruce came back in, a tray in his hands, Amara smiled and reached for the glass of water he'd brought for her. Some fresh vegetables and dip were arranged in a small glass serving tray, something that had clearly been prepared by the hotel's staff for the penthouse as a mid-afternoon snack.

"Ah, excellent!" Alfred exclaimed as she took the tray. "Now, Amara, you eat and drink that down, then take your medicine. I'll order supper for us, it should be up in half an hour, so feel free to take a little nap beforehand."

"I'll look after her, Alfred," Bruce told him.

With a nod, the older man turned and left, an awkward silence filling the room behind him. Amara decided to just eat a little, swallow the pill, then rub on the cream before taking a short nap.

Bruce, however, had different ideas. As she was nibbling on a piece of carrot, Bruce picked up the bag holding her medicine and put the pill prescription on the table. The tube of cream remained in his hand, and she nearly choked when she saw him open the top and pour a healthy amount of it into his palm.

"What are you doing?" she blurted out, her voice somewhere between a squeak and a squeal.

"Helping you with your medication," he calmly replied. "Just keep eating while I rub this on your leg."

Considering that he was still in his swimsuit and an open shirt, Amara wasn't sure that eating was a good idea when she was this close to drooling over how good he looked. It didn't help that she, too, was still in her swimsuit, and even if she was wearing her sarong, there was still a lot of skin showing.

Swallowing hard, Amara tried to protest, but didn't get very far because Bruce's swift fingers were pulling back the material of her skirt and gently lifting up her knee, completely exposing her right leg. Blushing, she looked away and bit into a carrot stick to distract herself. She had just swallowed when she felt the coolness of the cream on her leg.

"Uh, I think I'm full, now," Amara nervously said, leaning over to put the plate on the table. "I can put the cream on myself." Bruce's scowl made her gulp and sit back on the couch. "Okay, nevermind."

Biting her lip, Amara clasped her hands together and put them in her lap, eyes focused downwards on them as Bruce began rubbing the ointment over her calf. It was probably a very innocent gesture on his part, but it was so deliciously sensual that she couldn't help but shiver, drawing in a sharp breath as his fingertips caressed the underside of her calf.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" he asked.

Amara swallowed and shyly peeked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. "N-no," she stuttered, blushing slightly. "It's just that, the cream's a bit cold."

It was a lame excuse, but it seemed to work. Bruce gave her a smile and continued with applying the ointment, fingers gently gliding over her skin. In the back of her mind, Amara briefly indulged in a naughty fantasy involving Bruce as a masseuse with a bottle of coconut oil in his hands. Of course, the real-life sight of him wearing a tight white shirt and a pair of swim trunks only enhanced her imaginings, especially when the shirt was hanging half-way open.

"Amara, are you alright?" Bruce asked. "You look flushed. Did you get too much sun?"

She jumped, causing Bruce's hand to brush against her thigh. "Uh, no, I'm fine, just a bit tired, I guess. I think it's time for a nap."

He gave her a strange look, but didn't say anything. Thankfully, Alfred chose that moment to make an appearance.

"Supper is ready," the butler announced with a smile.

"Thanks, Alfred." Amara practically flew out of the room in an effort to avoid any more awkwardness with Bruce.

Dinner was set out on the small table, with glasses of sparkling cider set near the plates. The meal was healthy, for Amara's sake, because the doctors told her to eat well and build up her strength. Paper-thin slices of steak rested atop clusters of luscious broccolini, which had been sautéed lightly in butter and garlic. Amara ate everything on her plate, and didn't refuse seconds when Alfred offered it to her.

By the time she was finished, Amara was exhausted and more than ready for sleep. She was so tired that she didn't even argue when Bruce picked her up and carried her to her room, setting her gently on her feet before wishing her a goodnight.

Amara barely had the strength to change into a nightgown and brush her teeth. When she flopped down on the bed, she was asleep before she could breathe in twice.

* * *

When morning came, Bruce was up bright and early, though it was completely against his will. He'd been tossing and turning all night long, imagining the worst of what yesterday could have brought, and how Amara could have been more injured than she was now.

His dreams had been filled with sharks, teeth, blood, and terrified screams. Though little blood had been shed and Amara hadn't screamed, merely cried out, Bruce's imagination created all sorts of "what-if" scenarios, filling his mind with that he feared most to see. Just the idea of Amara screaming for help or out of fear made him break into a cold sweat; Bruce didn't even want to think about her bleeding out into the ocean, a shark taking away her precious life.

As the sun's rays pierced through his bedroom curtains, Bruce had only achieved a few hours of sleep, the images inside his head lingering long past the dark of night. Several times he'd been tempted to check up on Amara, to make sure she was alive and safe, but resisted the urge to do so. There had been the risk of waking her from a needed rest, and Bruce couldn't bear the thought of that.

By the time the clock beside his bed read eight o'clock, he'd given up any idea of sleep. His breakfast would be served soon (as opposed to Amara's breakfast, which was much later), so there was a bit of time for a nice shower to wake him up a bit. The hotel's soap and shampoo were tropical in scent and very invigorating, which was just what he needed to clear the cobwebs out of his head.

His hair had just been blow-dried when Alfred arrived, breakfast in hand and the morning paper tucked under his arm. When he saw his employer's face, a worried frown tugged at the butler's mouth.

"Rough night, sir?" he asked, critically eyeing Bruce as he sat down to eat. "You look worse than Miss Amara did after that shark incident yesterday."

Bruce winced. "Please don't mention that again, to either of us," he pleaded. "The last thing I need is for her to be further traumatized than she already is."

"Well, it seems to me, Master Bruce, that Amara is a girl who's stronger than she looks," Alfred said with a knowing glint in his eye.

"And how would you know this, Alfred?" Bruce asked before popping a bit of melon into his mouth.

The older man smiled and replied, "I know this, sir, because she told me as she ate breakfast this morning."

Bruce's fork froze in midair. "What?"

Alfred poured a bit of cream into Bruce's coffee and chuckled. "She woke up unusually early – for her, anyway – and came to the kitchen for breakfast. After I'd served her, I asked if that little incident at the beach put her off seeing the rest of Hawaii. Miss Amara proceeded to say that it would do no such thing, and that she intended to make the most of this trip. Said she never knew when she'd next be able to visit Hawaii, so why not enjoy it while she could?"

Astonished, Bruce finished the rest of his meal, not tasting a bit of it as he tried to figure out what he'd just learned. Apparently, Amara was made of stronger stuff than she looked. In some ways, she resembled the rare books she cared for: delicate, and fragile almost to the point of falling apart in the roughest of hands.

Yet, she was tougher than she appeared to be. After all, she wouldn't have lasted long in the clutches of The Joker if she weren't. Plus, she hadn't cracked and become holed up in her apartment after her encounter with the makeup-wearing sociopath, which most people certainly would have done.

'_Maybe I'm not giving her the benefit of the doubt_,' Bruce thought as he swallowed a mouthful of bacon. '_She isn't getting the credit and respect she deserves, though she's certainly earned it_.'

Perhaps it was time to change all that.

* * *

Breakfast, as usual, had been delicious. Amara had awoken early after an extremely sound night's sleep, and wasn't surprised to see Alfred already bustling around the kitchen. He'd been making Bruce's breakfast, actually, but when he saw Amara standing there, he served her first.

"Master Bruce can wait," he told her while putting an omelet, bacon and fresh fruit on the table. "Lord knows how late he was up last night, probably working on something having to do with his company."

"Is he up late so often?" Amara asked, cutting a corner off of the omelet.

Alfred chuckled and poured her a glass of milk and a smaller one of orange juice. "Oh, Master Wayne is a night owl," he said, "Always up at late hours, working hard, exercising, that sort of thing."

Swallowing her mouthful of food, Amara raised an eyebrow. "I heard that he spends most of his evenings at parties. You know, fancy dinners, balls, masquerades, etc."

"Yes, he does that, too," the butler replied, "But for the most part, he doesn't really enjoy them. The only events that Master Bruce actually enjoys are the charity events, and only because something good comes from them. He only goes to the other parties to keep up appearances, so to speak."

Since he chose that moment to deliver Bruce's breakfast, Amara was left alone in the dining room, silently making her way through her meal. She wasn't sure if she believed what Alfred had told her about Bruce and his late-night parties, considering what she knew about Bruce's reputation as a playboy and party animal.

Thinking back on the stories that Julie had told her about Bruce, Amara remembered a rumor. It was said that, after Bruce had returned to Gotham City after a seven-year disappearance, he'd gone out on the town with two gorgeous women in an expensive car, and bought an entire expensive hotel, all in one night. That hotel was presently one of the most exclusive places to stay in the city, just as Bruce's restaurant was the most exclusive restaurant in Gotham to eat at and be seen in. That did not sound like a man who hated parties.

On the other hand, she had spent a lot of time with Bruce, and knew that he was, at the very least, a decent guy. She had expected an arrogant, spoiled, selfish, and rude playboy who lusted after anything in a skirt. Instead, she'd found someone completely different, someone who was sweet, surprisingly chivalrous when it came to damsels-in-distress, and of course, very generous with his wealth. Amara seriously doubted that she would ever meet another man like Bruce Wayne in her life.

"Good morning."

'_Speak of the devil_,' she thought, grinning as the billionaire himself waltzed into the room.

He was already dressed in a pale blue polo shirt, khakis, and comfortable brown loafers, looking every inch the vacationing billionaire. Amara, however, was still in her flimsy nightgown, and when she remembered her attire, her face flushed.

"Uh, I'll just go change," she blurted out while leaping from her chair. "Be right back."

Rushing past him, Amara saw the grin on Bruce's face and wished that she were someplace far away.

* * *

The nightgown Amara had on was short, about knee-length, and practically see-through in the Hawaiian morning light. It was a simple cotton material with a simple design: thin lacy shoulder straps and lace wrapping around to create a loose empire waist. The look was charming on her, and Bruce rather like it, probably more than he should have. The white of the gown was quite good at enhancing her blushing cheeks, and when she ran by to go change, it showed a nice bit of her leg. Lately, he'd been seeing a lot of her legs, but he really didn't mind that.

Pulling his mind off of Amara's very attractive legs, Bruce tried to decide what they would do today. It had to be simple, but entertaining, and probably involve a meal or two away from the penthouse, giving Alfred some time to himself.

Thinking back to the layout of Waikiki, he remembered that there was a lot of quaint shopping in the area known as the International Market, where tons of local handmade knick-knacks and souvenirs were sold. Everything, from clothes to jewelry, was sold there, and at prices that the sellers were willing to haggle over.

Meals, though, were another matter. It had to be something that wasn't too casual, but not too fancy either. There were places to eat everywhere, and in all sorts of ethnicities. Plus, many hotels had restaurants scattered around inside them, which made it very difficult to pick the right one for Amara. He didn't even know what sort of food she liked, though from what he had seen so far, she liked pretty much everything.

Turning, Bruce went in search of his butler, hoping that Alfred would be able to narrow things down for him. Even though Bruce wasn't afraid of learning Amara's likes and dislikes directly from her own mouth, he'd much rather surprise her with his plans.

Halting in his footsteps, Bruce suddenly had a brief image of Amara's lips fill his head, as well as several imaginings of what he'd like to do to them.

The images vanished as quickly as they came, and he was left standing there, wondering what had just happened and whether it was a good thing or not.

* * *

AN: A shorter chapter than the previous ones, but the next one should be longer, so don't worry. In the meantime, I hope that you enjoyed reading, and will review. Thanks!


	17. When Feelings Start to Bloom

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Bruce starts to realize a few things in this chapter, but I won't ruin it by saying anything more. Enjoy, and please review!

**Chapter 17: When Feelings Start to Bloom:**

It took a call to the hotel's reception desk to get all the information Bruce wanted for the evening with Amara. This was because Alfred refused to be Bruce's little "go-between," and told his employer to find things out himself, or not at all.

Grumbling, Bruce had done just that, since he didn't want to go straight to the source for what he wanted. He really didn't like the idea of bothering Amara, and considering how embarrassed she'd been earlier that morning with the whole nightgown incident, it was probably best that he leave her alone for a bit. Besides, he liked finding this out on his own.

The hotel's reception staff had been very helpful in narrowing down classy, but not overly formal restaurants, places where any tourist could wander in and have a nice meal without worrying about how they were dressed. Some restaurants had dress codes, and since he wanted Amara to be comfortable, Bruce decided to save those for another time, preferably after they did some more clothes shopping for her.

After careful questioning on both his part and the hotel's staff, Bruce decided on a place whose menu had the unique mixture of Chinese and Italian cuisine. It seemed interesting, which was good; the last thing he wanted was for Amara to become bored with anything while on the island, even the food. Besides, he wanted to see if she could handle chopsticks.

It was after ten o'clock in the morning by the time he finished, leaving more than enough time for him to take Amara out to shop the market for a bit, head off to lunch somewhere, shop some more, then have dinner. A full day, but they'd be back well at a good time; after all, Amara needed her rest.

For a moment, Bruce thought that perhaps he was babying her a bit, but dismissed the idea. Hawaii's hot climate was enough to drain the strength out of anyone not used to it, so it was best that he play it safe when it came to Amara's health. Lots of cool drinks, tasty snacks and air conditioned stores would help keep her comfortable, and if she got too hot or tired, he'd bring her straight back home for a rest. It was not babying; just caution.

The door to her bedroom was open a few inches, and Bruce heard the sound of soft, cheerful music and humming coming from inside. Peeking in, he spotted her sorting through all of the clothes he'd bought her while here in Waikiki. Most went into one pile, while others were carefully put on hangers and placed daintily in the closet. The expensive purse he'd purchased sat on a small table, alone and with the tags still attached; apparently she had no intention of using it, and had possibly formed a plan to make him return it to the store.

Bruce barely held back a snort. He honestly meant for Amara to keep everything he'd bought for her, although he'd try not to be offended if she decided not to use it.

Leaning against the wood, he watched her from the doorway. There was a cheerful song playing with a good beat, and Bruce couldn't help but grin at the sight of her tapping feet, bobbing head, and occasional hand gestures, all in time with the song. It was both amusing and fascinating to watch, because Amara had on a pair of beige capri pants, a pale pink short-sleeve shirt, and sandals on, and the pants looked very good with her dancing around in them.

Sadly, the charming sight didn't last, because at that moment, Amara turned towards the door and yelped in surprise, clearly startled to see him standing there, watching her.

"What are you doing?" she cried, cheeks flushing as she dropped the clothes she'd been holding.

"Oh, nothing," Bruce said casually. "Just enjoying the view and the show."

And he really _was_ enjoying the view. Now that he had a good view of the front of her shirt, Bruce saw that the top Amara was wearing had a very nice V-neck, showing just enough cleavage to tease and tempt the male eye, but no more than that. He liked it.

Amara rolled her eyes and shook her head. "What did you really come here for?" she asked. "And none of those suave or charming lines you usually dole out."

This woman never ceased to surprise him. She wanted no flattery from him, no word games, and no banter. Nor was she going to flirt with him in return; it just wasn't her style. It was still fun, though, as long as things were kept honest and toned down to a rated-PG level. Most of his dates preferred to play cat-and-mouse with him, or the flirtatious vixen. The dialogues he had with Amara were better.

"Honestly, I came to see if you wanted to do some shopping at the local markets, have some lunch, shop some more, then go out for a nice, relaxing dinner," he answered. "What do you think?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Nothing overly fancy? No expensive name-brand shops, no designer boutiques, and no restaurant requiring elegant attire?"

Bruce raised his right hand. "I promise there won't be any of that today," he swore. "Now, since you seem to be ready, how about we head out? Unless you need a few minutes?"

Amara did need some time to 'tidy up,' but in fifteen minutes, they were out the door. On her shoulder was the plain brown leather purse she'd brought with her from Gotham, a sight that hurt Bruce's pride a little.

"Why won't you use the new purse I bought you?" he asked. "It's nicer, and holds a lot more."

She shrugged. "It's an old favorite of mine, and it wears well with everything," Amara explained. "It takes a beating and still holds together, and even if the leather scuffs or fades, the color looks good no matter what. It's practical and functional, so what else do I need?"

Bruce pushed the lobby button in the elevator and looked over at her. "But don't you want to look fashionable? I don't think I've ever met a woman who didn't want to look good in the newest outfits."

Amara shook her head. "I can't afford to be clad in new, stylish like others. I need to look professional, but approachable, because that's what a librarian should be. In my line of work, if you dress up too much in today's trends, they think you're too arrogant and snobbish to help them, and that could cause patrons to avoid me. I need to know that I look nice and business-like, but still welcoming. You know, an open person they can talk to."

She certainly had a point. While most women dressed for success, Amara dressed to make others more comfortable with her. It certainly explained why the children at the library found her so easy to get along with: she was not only approachable, but dressed well enough so that they recognized her as an authority figure in the library, and someone who knew her way around so that she could help them.

Bruce focused on the elevator's doors as he turned that idea over in his head. This was no cutthroat businesswoman fighting her way to the top. Standing beside him was a woman who was content where she was, happily situated in what she considered a dream-job and would be happy staying there until she retired –perhaps even longer! How many women out there were thrilled with the prospect of remaining where they were in the working world?

'_Not many_,' Bruce thought while peeking at Amara out of the corner of his eye.

Off the top of his head, he could easily list a dozen of his own employees who'd chew off their right hand just to get a seat on his board. Hell, they'd do it just to be his personal assistant and have access to some of his secrets, most of which he was sure they'd exploit. Bruce could only imagine how much his secret identity as Batman would fetch to the tabloids.

"So, where are we going again?" Amara asked apprehensively. "You said nowhere fancy, so that leaves where, exactly?"

"The International Marketplace," he answered as the elevator stopped and the doors chimed open. "We can walk there, if you'd like. It's only a block or so up the street."

She nodded, and when Bruce offered his arm, he felt oddly thrilled to have Amara's hand rest there. Her touch was delicate, but her hand was slightly callused, probably from her work handling books.

Out the hotel entrance they went, joining the throngs of tourists as they headed for the street.

* * *

Amara was so glad they had walked to the market instead of driving. The bustling shopping center was indeed only a block or two away from the hotel, and even though it was hot and humid outside, it was still a pleasant walk. Breezes from the ocean swept up the streets, and the occasional restaurant or shop had little sprinklers releasing cool clouds of mist onto passersby. The sun was shining, and people were laughing, talking, joking, and having a great time on a beautiful day. Why would anyone want to miss this by _driving_?

If the outside the marketplace it was busy, the inside the marketplace it was chaos. Everywhere she looked, Amara saw people, shops, and all sorts of things exchanging hands. Money passed from tourists to stall owners, and in return they got their purchases, all of it ranging from jewelry, wooden statues carved by hand, clothes, hairpieces, and even knock-off designer luggage.

But the most remarkable thing about the International Marketplace was the manmade waterfall that stood fifty feet from the front gate. Exotic flowers and plants had been put in the soil, growing around the rushing water and the pool that collected it. Inside the pool were brightly colored Japanese fish, swimming lazily as people stared down at them. It was beautiful, and a good place to stand close to and cool off in the heat of the day.

As she was promised, Bruce avoided the designer stores that stood close to the entrance of the market and took her to where the locals were promoting their wares. Men and women alike called for tourists to come look what they were selling, and Amara was overwhelmed by all of the wonderful things she was seeing.

"So, what are you looking for?" Bruce asked, leaning closer to be heard above the racquet surrounding them.

She stopped and thought about it. "Maybe some inexpensive local jewelry?" Amara timidly replied, looking around.

After that, Amara knew she was in over her head when it came to shopping in this bazaar.

There were dozens of carts and stalls selling all sorts of beautiful necklaces, rings, bracelets, hairclips, and other things a woman would love to buy, which made for a good selection. The problem was that they all had different prices, and were more than willing to haggle over the charge. Get a price from one stall owner, and the one next to it was shouting a promise to sell lower than his or her neighbor. It was doubtful that they all needed her business, considering how many potential customers were drifting around, but it always seemed as though she were their last hope of making a sale that day.

Finally, Bruce swept in and rescued her from a pair of aggressive merchants, putting his arm protectively around her and hovering close so that others would take note of his disapproving scowl, silently telling them to back off, which they did. Normally, she would have told him to stop, but in this case, she made an exception.

Lunchtime came and went while they walked around, looking at all the wares. Amara finally decided that the press of the crowd was becoming too much, and suggested getting lunch. Bruce agreed and led her out into the streets, where they found a sandwich shop that had the option of eating outdoors. They shared a very large BLT sandwich with potato salad, and topped it off with small cups of gelato. Pleasantly full and energized, they wandered back into the mass of shoppers.

By the time the sun began to set, Amara had finally found something she liked. It was a silver ring with three flowers perched on top of it. Each flower had five petals, and in the center of each flower was a beautiful tiny crystal. The seller had dozens of these rings, each with a different color of crystal in the flowers' center, but Amara only wanted one with clear crystals, and that was what she bought (after much haggling with the stall owner). It fit perfectly, and practically screamed that it was from Hawaii, so she decided to count that as her souvenir.

"Why didn't you get one of the gold rings she was selling?" Bruce asked as they walked away from the stall.

The gold rings were the same design, but didn't have crystals. Also, the flowers on some of the rings came in three different shades of gold – white, yellow, and rose – and were stunning, but also expensive. Amara had truly wanted one of the gold rings, but knew that the price was far out of her reach. Silver was a safer bet, and besides, all of her other jewelry was silver, so why mess with a perfect collection?

She smiled and looked at her hand, admiring the way the silver glittered in the sun's fading light. "They were too expensive. Besides, I like silver better."

* * *

Honestly, would she ever stop surprising him? The last woman Bruce had known that didn't like expensive jewelry was his mother, Martha. Thomas Wayne had been the one spending money on glittering gems and gleaming pearls on his wife, not Martha herself, who had been rather modest in taste when it came to clothes, jewelry and fashion. While others in their social circle splurged on anything and everything, Mrs. Wayne preferred to focus her time and money on her husband and son, believing that family was worth more than all of the wealth in the world. Amara was the same way.

At that moment, something began to change inside of Bruce. It was a warm, glowing feeling that he'd never felt before, and the woman walking beside him seemed entirely different than the one who'd been there a moment before. It was so strange.

That unusual feeling inside told him exactly what he was experiencing, but he didn't want to believe it. With his lifestyle, especially his night-life, Bruce could not afford to be that close to someone. He had secrets, some so deep and dark that he knew they would frighten off any woman with common sense. The path he had chosen was a long and lonely one, and though he'd give anything to have someone to come home to and share things with, it was impossible.

That last thought sent a shadow over the warmth that had formed, and a tug-of-war began inside of his mind. One half wanted him to pursue his growing attraction towards Amara. Whatever these feelings were, they left him not only like a better person, but also a little bit stronger and surer than he had before. It made everything he did worthwhile.

The other side, which was the more logical part, warned against this, saying it was too dangerous to keep Amara close to him. It reminded him that her life would be in danger if she knew about him as Batman, and that she would probably leave him after discovering the truth about who he was, just like Rachel had.

He quickly put a damper on that rational side and locked it away. Amara was _not_ Rachel. Where Rachel had disapproved of his works as Batman, Amara heartily encouraged what he was doing, and it was the corrupt police force she disliked, not Batman. Where Rachel couldn't seem to wait for the day when Bruce could put aside the mask, Amara, dared he think it, seemed to enjoy spending time with the Dark Knight, even going so far as to tease him and talk with him.

In the end, the warm feeling won out, and Bruce decided to adjust his motives for spoiling Amara. Before, it had been to make her more comfortable and forget about what had happened in Gotham; now it was for something else entirely.

"Well, I think it's time for dinner," he said, turning hazel eyes towards her. "What do you say?"

* * *

Dinner sounded wonderful, so Amara let Bruce escort her from the marketplace, his arm threaded through hers. The sidewalks were amazingly crowded, not only with tourists and locals, but also, to her astonishment, street performers.

Jugglers, dancers, painters, even a man with parrots on his shoulders, provided entertainment for the masses. The guy with the parrots took pictures of tourists with the birds on their hands or shoulders, selling the photos for a few dollars a piece. Amara wanted to take a photo, but winced at the idea of what the birds might do to her clothes. It was safer just to look.

Much to her surprise, their final destination was a hotel. Bruce went from one hallway to another, following signs posted above the doorways. Winding their way through the stairways and halls, Amara's head began to spin, so she was immensely thankful when they finally stopped. It was a beautiful entryway that looked as though it were from Asia, and the sign above it read '_Ciao Mein_,' which she thought was odd since it was a mixture of Italian and Chinese terms. From what she could deduce, it served a mixture of the two different cuisines, which was interesting.

The inside of the restaurant was beautiful and elegant. Red and black drapes hung down the walls, and the theme was mostly Chinese, though there was the occasional chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There were forks and chopsticks, and all of the other typical dinnerware, but Amara was slightly unnerved when the hostess who seated them spread her napkin over her lap for her. That sort of papering was not her style.

Scanning the menu was another experience that bewildered her. There were not only Italian and Chinese options, but there were also the occasional dish that was a mixture of the two cultures' influences. Amara finally gave up trying to decide which type of food she was in the mood for and chose a spicy beef dish with vegetables. Bruce ordered a noodle dish with shrimp, and iced tea for the both of them.

When the food arrived, Amara was surprised at the decent portions; no individual, palm-sized meals here, which is what one expected at such an elegant place. Here it was family style, allowing the two of them to share dishes. This was good, because it all looked delicious, and Amara knew there was no way she would be able to resist taking one or two of Bruce's shrimp.

The beef was the most tender and succulent meat she'd ever had, and the sauce was divine: not too spicy, and left just a small tickle in the back of her throat. The shrimp were huge, almost the size of prawns, and the noodles were served cold, but spicy with red chili flakes. It was all wonderful, and all perfectly prepared. Amara ate so much that when the offer for dessert was made, she had to refuse.

"We might get something later, while we're walking off dinner," Bruce said with a smile. "I think that you'll be able to make room for ice cream or sherbet while we're out."

Rolling her eyes, Amara said nothing, knowing that arguing with him was futile. Instead, she sat and watched as he paid the bill, signing the slip with a flourish she'd never seen him do before. Now that she thought about it, Amara had noticed that Bruce seemed unusually relaxed, but also focused and determined about something. And he was happier than he had been at the market. It made her wonder what on earth was going on inside that head of his.

As they left the restaurant and headed back towards the penthouse, Bruce slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side. It could have been an innocent gesture, meant to keep her close to him in the bustling crowds. And yet, it seemed like a possessive gesture, like a male signaling that the woman beside him was his, and that he wouldn't hesitate to fight anyone who tried to lay a finger on her.

It was a touching thought, but one that Amara quickly pushed aside. There was no way that Bruce was interested in her that way. Really, a man who had dated gorgeous models, movie stars, even Russian ballerinas, wasn't going to be interested in a mild-mannered librarian!

However, a small part of her whispered that even if he were interested, she might just go out with him, if he asked.

* * *

The walk back to the penthouse was quiet between him and Amara, though the streets were full of people shopping, eating, talking, laughing, and having a good time. Nighttime was the best time to get out in Hawaii; the sun was down, the heat was fading, and the temperature was just perfect for doing everything in. Well, except for sunbathing and swimming, but that didn't seem to stop a few daredevils from taking their surfboards out into the dark water.

But even if there was no conversation with Amara, Bruce could tell that she was comfortable. Her body was relaxed, and there was a slight smile on her lips as they passed a man making balloon animals for children. She even stopped to pet a small puppy as they passed it, the friendly little tike licking her hand and yipping as she did so. It was a good walk.

After reaching the hotel and quietly settling in for the night, Bruce savored the silence. Alfred had greeted them at the elevator doors, as was expected, and whisked Amara off to bed, leaving his employer standing in the hallway. From where he'd stood, Bruce had heard her relaying the day's events to the old butler, and smiled at how close the two had become. Not even Rachel had reached the "almost daughter" level of closeness with Alfred that Amara had.

With his teeth brushed and his body tucked under the covers, Bruce stared at the ceiling, thinking. He didn't know when his feelings towards the sweet, quiet, but quirky librarian had changed, and yet, they had. At first glance, it sort of resembled a crush, but on a deeper level, he knew it was more than that. Bruce tried to sort it all out, but couldn't; there was just too much that he liked about her to chalk it up to a crush.

'_Amara has a sense of humor and fun to talk to. She is also a very strong woman, to have remained sane after being kidnapped by The Joker_,' he thought.

Plus, she was good with kids, and they seemed to look up to her as a friend, mentor, and, quite possibly, a role-model. What wasn't there to like about her?

On the other hand, she wasn't perfect. Amara just couldn't seem to accept a gift from him unless it was small and inexpensive. Oh, she was eager and willing to take anything Alfred bought her, but the kindly butler usually presented her with books that had been bought with her in mind.

'_Note to self: follow Alfred's lead when it comes to buying things for Amara_,' Bruce thought with a nod.

Another trait of hers that drove him nuts was that she chewed her lower lip, sometimes to the point of them cracking, peeling or bleeding. It wasn't really noticeable under the pink or red lipstick that she wore, but when her lips were clean, it clearly showed. Bruce had questioned Alfred about it once, and the older man had claimed that, according to an earlier conversation with her, it was sort of Amara's substitution for not biting her nails, a habit she had given up as a child. However, she had transferred to biting her lips instead. Bruce did not like seeing her hurt herself, but Amara never did a great deal of damage, so he decided to let it slide, at least for now.

By then, his eyes felt heavy, and it was time for sleep. As he drifted off, Bruce made a silent vow to do everything in his power to make sure that Amara never shed a drop of blood, not by anyone's hands. It seemed a futile promise, but when one is practically asleep, it's easy to make foolish promises, even ones you intend to keep.

* * *

AN: A slightly longer chapter than the last one, but I hope that everyone will be kind and review! I'd greatly appreciate it. Thanks!


	18. Fun at the Beach

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing related to _**Batman**_ and that universe. Only original characters are mine.

AN: Okay, first, some very important news. I will be going on vacation very soon, and therefore won't be updating Christmas week. You will have to wait until the last week of December (or the first few days of January) for the next update. In the meantime, I hope that this chapter can tide you over, and I will update as soon as I can when I get back. Thanks.

PS: The beach in this chapter is one that I made up. As far as I know, it doesn't exist, and is merely here in my imagination.

**Chapter 18: Fun at the Beach:**

The day after her visit to the marketplace, things felt different than the days before. In the moments prior to that day's walk through the chaos of the bazaar, there had been what Amara thought of as a friendship growing between her and Bruce; it was something else entirely this morning.

When she'd woken up and wandered into the kitchen, Bruce had been there to greet her, beaming as she combed her fingers through her hair and sat at the table for breakfast. Extremely thankful that she had decided to dress before leaving her room, Amara had eaten her omelet and tried to ignore the feeling that Bruce was staring at her across the table. When she did look up from under her eyelashes, his hazel eyes were there, giving her the strangest look. It made her stomach flip whenever she saw it.

After that came the surprise. Bruce suggested a day at a secluded beach, a different one from where they'd been before.

"Just the two of us," he'd said, instantly causing her to become nervous.

Unable to resist without being rude, Amara had gone along with it, saying that it sounded like fun. Alfred packed them a basket of food, towels, and lotions, then gently pushed her out the door with an encouraging wink. By the time she realized what was happening, it was too late; she was in the car with Bruce and they were on their way.

It was a date. She was on an official date with Bruce Wayne, and there was no way to get out of it. Julie would be slapping her on the back and squealing with joy for her friend; all Amara wanted to do was find a way to jump out of the moving car without hurting herself.

The ride to the beach was fairly quiet. Bruce was focused on the road while Amara frantically tried to think of how to make their day a "not-date," and more like time spent between friends. Considering they'd technically be 'alone' together on the beach, there wasn't much she could do to change things. And since they were both in their bathing suits (hidden under their clothes, of course), it was likely that Bruce fully intended their time together to count as an official date on the beach.

It was an unusually bold move on his part, and Amara couldn't help but wonder at his motives. Why was he suddenly so interested in taking her out like this? Without Alfred here to chaperone, she had to think that Bruce wanted much more to happen than simple conversation.

And now it was too late to get out of it.

Swallowing nervously, Amara looked out the window and prayed that Bruce didn't try anything on her. She didn't think that he would, but you never know.

* * *

Bruce knew that Amara was apprehensive about their day at the beach, but he really wanted to give her a pleasant beach day, and perhaps turn it into a date. She probably already thought it was a date, or some bold move of seduction on his part, but Bruce would make sure Amara saw what it really was: an official first date. He had no intention of doing anything inappropriate with her…at least, not unless she wanted him to.

The ride passed quickly, as the beach wasn't too far away, and Bruce could see Amara stiffen as they pulled into a parking spot. It wasn't a large beach, and was fairly secluded and exclusive. Not a lot of people were able to come here, as few even knew about it. There was a wall of foliage that stood between the main road and the beach, and the turn off was a rough-looking road that most people missed or avoided.

What people didn't know was that, after about a quarter of a mile, it turned into a cement parking lot with easy access to the sand and surf. Bruce had been told about this beach from the concierge at the hotel, and immediately thought it would be nice to take Amara there, though he'd make sure to keep her out of the water this time.

After parking, he turned towards the anxious young woman beside him and waited until she looked at him. There was a nervous gleam in her eyes, and Bruce immediately felt a wave of guilt at having frightened her by rushing into this. However, if he wanted her to know how he felt, and possibly have her feel the same way for _him_, Bruce needed to try and win her over as soon as possible. After all, Hawaii was known for being beautiful, exotic and romantic, so why not take advantage of it?

"Well," he said cheerfully, "here we are! Ready for some fun in the sun?"

* * *

Even though it was a secluded beach, there were still a few people there, which made Amara feel better about this whole thing. Just the thought of being completely alone on a beach with a shirtless Bruce Wayne was enough to make her stomach flutter, not to mention start all sorts of naughty imaginings inside her head. It was better that there were people there to 'keep it real' for her.

Amara had been so wrapped in her thoughts that she never noticed Bruce get out and come open her own door, holding it open so she could step out onto the pavement. Swallowing nervously, Amara unfastened her seatbelt, silently praying that she wouldn't regret this.

* * *

'_Well, this isn't so bad_,' she thought with a small smile.

After leaving the car, Bruce had led her down to the sand, leading her over white sand to find what he considered a perfect spot. Finally, he found one close to the water, where he proceeded to set up the umbrella they'd brought. Amara had offered to carry it, as well as the towels, while Bruce carried the basket of food and drinks, and he'd agreed. Of course, she couldn't resist looking at his arms while he bore the heavy burden; the muscles that stood out there were just too irresistible, shifting underneath the thin, loose white shirt Bruce wore.

Once they'd settled down on their spread towels, Amara took notice of how the warmth of the sun and the breeze off the sea made the temperature just perfect for sunbathing, and removed her shirt and shorts. The warmth of the sunshine sank into her skin as the breeze off the water lessened the heat. Quickly, before she forgot, Amara rubbed on some lotion, getting most of her body on her own. Since they were alone together, the last thing she wanted to do was ask Bruce for help!

Sighing in contentment, Amara lay back on the towel and tried to ignore the fact that Bruce was sitting there beside her, watching her every move.

* * *

Today his lovely companion wore an entirely new swimsuit, probably because the one she'd previously worn to the beach came with too many bad memories. Thankfully, just after breakfast, Alfred had magically produced a swimsuit that he had ordered from a nearby boutique, just for Amara. It was a shimmering, pale pink one piece with thin shoulder straps. The straps crisscrossed over the small of her back, and were attached to the front by a short chain of three shiny metal loops, each link the size of his thumbnail. It was very classy and looked very nice on her, though Bruce would have liked to know how Alfred had procured one in Amara's exact size.

'_Probably from her closet_,' he thought while pulling off his shirt. '_Or he looked at the other suits and got her size off the tag_.'

He really didn't like the idea of someone going through her things like that, even if it was Alfred. On the other hand, some good had come from it, so he supposed it was alright – for now, anyway.

Looking at the rather temping figure beside him, Bruce scanned Amara from her toes up to her head, taking in her skin glistening with suntan lotion, the shapely form that filled the pink swim suit so well, and the slightly parted lips as she relaxed in the sun.

Speaking of the sun, hadn't she forgotten to get some lotion on her back?

"Amara," Bruce whispered.

"Hmm?" she replied softly, apparently pulled out of a pleasant doze.

"You need suntan lotion put on your back," he told her. "Where's the bottle?"

Sighing, Amara sat up and produced the lotion, which had been put on her other side. Ever the gentleman, Bruce thanked her for the bottle and poured a fair amount into his palm. It was a new bottle, lightly scented with coconut, and very much waterproof, allowing the wearer to play in the waves to their heart's content.

With another glance, Bruce saw that Amara had once again spread out on the towel, this time face-down so that he could get her back. Her head was turned away from him, and since she couldn't see his face, he grinned. For a playboy billionaire, rubbing lotion on an attractive woman was a given; rubbing lotion on _one particular _woman he was attracted to was rarer, and Bruce intended to enjoy every chance he got to do it.

Reaching out, he gently pressed his hand to her body. Her skin was warm and supple beneath his fingertips, yielding easily as he rubbed the lotion over the middle of her back, slowly and carefully moving upwards as he did his work, much like an artist did while molding clay. Caressing her skin with his thumb, Bruce marveled at how smooth and soft she was, and wondered what sort of soap she used to keep it that way. He'd have to find out.

Even though he'd taken his time, Bruce was disappointed to find that he finished with Amara's back fairly quickly. He had even rubbed the back of her neck, and was sure that he'd heard her either moan or purr as he did so. Encouraged, he let his fingers trace a path down her spine, startling a gasp from her.

"Stop that!" she ordered over her shoulder.

A grin spread over Bruce's mouth. "Ticklish, are we?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or are you merely sensitive there?"

She refused to answer him, instead turning to lie on her back so that he couldn't do it again. Well, that didn't matter; she'd have to turn around in order to tan evenly on her back, so it was only a matter of time before he got his chance again. It was also a matter of patience, at least on his part.

* * *

This was a nightmare. Well, okay, it wasn't really a nightmare, given that she was on a beautiful white sandy beach in Hawaii with a billionaire. It didn't hurt that said billionaire was incredibly handsome, wearing nothing but swim trunks, and had a great build, all of which she could see from beneath the arm she'd placed over her eyes to block out the sun. Too bad she'd forgotten her sunglasses.

Well, if this wasn't a nightmare, Amara wasn't sure what to call it. She didn't know why Bruce was doing this, acting like a man trying to romance a woman he was interested in. Considering her lack of sophistication, vogue fashion sense, and only having moderate good looks, she didn't know why he would even be interested in her in the first place.

After her first meeting with him, Amara had done her homework, looking up articles and photos of Bruce while on her breaks at work. He was often in tabloid newspapers and magazines, as well as the society pages, usually depending on who he was dating at the time. If he was with a star of film, stage, or music, Bruce graced the tabloids; if he was with a woman from either a rich family or an important one, he could be seen in the more respected newspapers, the specially selected woman on his arm as they attended balls and parties together.

Obviously, Amara was not someone that Bruce Wayne would want to date. She wasn't stunningly beautiful like the supermodels he was usually with, nor was she from a well-known, rich, or important family. She had no connections to anyone outside the moderate middle-class she'd grown up in, unless you counted her mother's friend on the library's board of directors, and that was only because both older women had been friends for decades, going back to when they were in the same public schools. She and Bruce were from two completely different worlds.

'_So why is he interested in me_?' she wondered.

If he wanted a quick fling in Hawaii, there were tons of women who'd be happy to oblige. Amara was not the sort of girl to do that sort of thing; she had her morals.

And yet, she couldn't help but feel as though that wasn't what Bruce wanted. After all, she actually knew him quite a bit better than before, and had long since discovered that he was sweet, generous, and rather fun to be with.

'_So if he likes you, and you like him, why not go for it_?' whispered a voice in the back of her head.

The voice had a point. Bruce clearly wanted to pursue her in the 'interested-as-a-potential-girlfriend' way, so why not let him and return the favor?

'_Because, let's face it: hot billionaire playboys did not usually go for librarians as possible romance interests_,' she reminded herself.

But he'd been so kind to her, and done everything in his power to protect her from danger, not to mention feed her, shelter her in his house, and fly her on an expensive vacation to the tropics. How many guys would go through that sort of trouble and expense just to impress a girl?

Peeking out from under her arm, Amara watched the man next to her spread lotion on his arms. Her eyes locked onto the fascinating motion of his hands, and practically started choking as Bruce started rubbing lotion on his chest. There was some very nice muscle there, and only a slight sprinkling of chest hair, not to mention that small trail that went down from his navel into his swim trunks.

Hurriedly pulling her eyes back up from that territory, Amara decided some time in the water might be needed. That incident with the shark had been frightening, of course, but this time she had no plans of going any deeper than her ankles. Well, maybe up to her calves, at the deepest, and she really wanted to get away from the incredibly drool-worthy sight that was Bruce Wayne.

"I think I'll head into the water," she blurted out while sitting up on the towel.

Bruce's head turned so fast that she thought it would snap off. "What do you mean you're going in the water?" he demanded. "After what happened last time-"

Amara sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to waste my chances of enjoying Hawaii's legendary warm water just because of one bad experience," she retorted. "If my encounter with The Joker couldn't stop me from living my life, then a small nip from an equally small shark isn't going to make me avoid the water."

Turning, she left him behind, fully intent on dipping her toes into the crystal blue Pacific.

* * *

Damn it, he didn't know if Amara's stubborn attitude was annoying or amusing. But then, that was part of what Bruce liked so much about her: that determination to live her life in spite of whatever events had just occurred.

Watching from his towel, he smiled as she dipped her toes into the sea. When she seemed to have found it pleasant, the toes were followed by a delicate step forward, almost like a doe cautiously moving into an open area of forest. Her movements were soft and very enjoyable to watch as she went in up to her ankles.

For a while, Bruce sat and watched as Amara explored the shallow water, occasionally picking up shells, pebbles, or other things that caught her eye. Most were gently set back into the waves, but several remained in her free hand, right up until she had too many to hold onto any longer. When that happened, she returned to shore, a cheerful look on her face as she sat back down on her towel.

"There, what do you think?" she asked, carefully spreading her treasure out on the white cotton material. "I like this one best."

She handed over a shell the size of her thumb, shining an iridescent pale blue in the sunlight. It was a brilliant find, and she seemed very pleased with herself at having discovered it.

"Very nice," he admitted, gently setting it down and picking up another, this one a glittering golden yellow with a rainbow glaze. "You have a good eye."

Amara blushed prettily, and Bruce resisted the urge to smile. For some reason, he felt proud at being able to make her do that, and the reward of her cheeks turning a charming pink was priceless.

"So, what are you going to do with these?" he asked, setting the golden shell down on the towel.

Tilting her head, Amara bit her lower lip. "I don't know," she admitted, "I have a nice collection of shells, but I've never really done anything with them."

Bruce glanced down at the shells and decided to make a suggestion. "Well, if you want, I could have them made into a bracelet or a necklace," he said, taking up the blue shell again. "It would look very pretty, and you'd have something that is one-of-a-kind, a unique piece all your own."

He looked up and saw her eyes glinting in delight. "You can do that?" she asked tentatively.

"Of course," Bruce replied, replacing the shell. "What would you like it set in? Gold? Silver? I could have them put in either one, and I'm sure they'd look lovely."

Taking a closer look at the shells, he decided to put some shells in silver as pendants, some in gold, and a few to decorate bracelets as charms. Each shell would be beautifully and perfectly set, then presented to Amara as soon as they were finished.

Nodding to himself, Bruce decided to have them done here in Hawaii, then gradually give them to her when they were in Gotham. She wouldn't expect him to have them done so quickly, and it would give him the chance to really shower her with unique gifts long after they'd left the island.

"Let's get these safely tucked away," he said, reaching into the basket and pulling out an empty sandwich bag that Alfred had packed, probably just for this purpose. "We'll figure the rest out later."

* * *

To Amara, the rest of their day at the beach was well-spent. Bruce had opened the basket of food close to noon, and they'd eaten their fill of the sandwiches and potato chips that Alfred had packed, as well as the candied fruits that the butler had somehow managed to get a hold of for them. Water bottles that had been frozen quickly thawed to provide cool water, and the entire thing was delicious.

When their meal was finished, Amara had intended to take a small nap under the umbrella, but Bruce apparently had other ideas. He'd taken her hand, grabbed the small bag that held the shells that she had collected earlier that day, and dragged her back to the water.

At first, she had protested, but not long after, the two of them were having fun searching for additions to her collection. Bruce found a few interesting white shells that had been polished smooth by the ocean, adding them to the growing pile of shells. Within an hour, they had more than a few dozen in the bag, and Amara was beginning to feel extremely baked from all of the sunshine she'd been getting. When she told Bruce this, he decided they'd spent enough time at the beach, and that they should head back to the penthouse. Amara heartily agreed.

The ride back was, in Amara's opinion, much calmer and more amusing than the one to the beach. They talked to one another about the shells they had found, and what sort of metal each piece of her little treasure trove would be set in. She liked silver, but Bruce insisted that some would look much better in gold. Although she was inclined to agree with him, Amara really didn't want him spending so much money on jewelry, especially on someone he didn't have a close relationship with.

'_Though I've no doubt that he plans on changing that_,' she thought, nervously.

And she knew that Bruce wanted something more than just a casual friendship with her. Two minutes into the drive back, he had reached over and taken her hand gently in his own. In her opinion, it was a rather bold move, but his touch was so gentle that it was hard to listen to her conscience telling her to pull away. It was also a very nice hand to hold onto.

The rest of their conversation focused on dinner. Bruce wanted something classy, but casual; Amara, of course, was happy eating anywhere that didn't cost a fortune or require people to dress up. He argued with her, as he always did, and eventually, they settled on going out to Thai food.

Upon their arrival at the penthouse, Alfred greeted them with a smile and some lemonade. Amara rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to show him her finds on the beach as she went to change out of her swimsuit. Since it was early afternoon, dinner wouldn't be for a while, and lounging in the living room with a good book sounded like a perfect way to pass the rest of the day.

Apparently Bruce had had enough of the outdoors as well, and agreed with her on staying in for the afternoon. He went back to his room for a nap, leaving Amara to enjoy her book. Alfred was kind enough to teach her how to use the stereo system so that she could have music, if she wanted it, and brought her a tray of snacks to nibble on. There was ice cold lemonade, too, and as she sank into the soft cushions of the couch, Amara let herself savor the thought of being pampered, if only for a little while.

The rest of the day passed quickly. She managed to get through a good part of her book, and was surprised when Alfred came in to ask if she should change for dinner. Looking at the clock, she realized it really was time for dinner.

Reluctantly closing her book, Amara headed to her room to change, and decided on a pair of black Capri pants, a red short-sleeved top, and black sandals. It was simple and casual, but still nice enough to get her into a restaurant with a dress code. Bruce had said he wouldn't take her to one of those places today, but you never know. He was sneaky that way.

Finished with her prepping, Amara headed out into the area by the elevator, where Bruce was waiting for her. Much to her relief, he was dressed in black pants, black shoes, and a white polo shirt. It was casual, but he still looked remarkably good in it.

"Shall we?" he asked, holding out his hand instead of his arm.

She instantly recognized the gesture for what it was: instead of a gentlemanly gesture like offering his elbow, Bruce wanted to hold her hand, which was far more intimate and affectionate.

Without hesitating, she placed her fingers in his palm, smiling as she did so.

* * *

From the moment they left the penthouse to the second they came back, Bruce felt remarkable. Amara's hand had stayed clasped within his all the way to the Thai restaurant (which he'd found through the hotel's staff), and only separated to sit down at the table.

But even though they were not touching physically, Bruce let his eyes caress her as they ate their curry dishes. Amara had felt him staring; he knew this from the shy glances she took in between bites, her eyes glancing upwards every once in a while as she ate. It had almost driven him insane, the way her brown eyes looked enticingly up through her lashes.

When dinner was over, Bruce once again offered his hand, and was accepted without protest. The first time she'd taken his hand, he thought she was only being polite; a second time she did so gave him the hope that she was willing to turn their friendship into something more. And he did so want more than just friendship.

Their walk back to the penthouse was quiet, but comfortable. Any small bursts of conversation were softly spoken, the two of them like teenagers out on their first date and not knowing what to say. Bruce knew then that something had changed this day. It was a tentative step on the path to dating and romance, and Bruce was ready to do everything in his power to keep it there.

* * *

AN: I know, I'm evil for leaving you hanging there, but I hope it'll keep you all hooked so that you'll tune in for the next chapter. In the meantime, please don't forget to review. Thanks!


	19. Matters of the Heart

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Yup, I'm updating as usual this week. My vacation went down the toilet, thanks to the huge snow storm that hit just before I was due to fly out, so I was literally snowed in my house for several days. This gave me lots of time to write, hence the update.

Anyway, sorry about the cliffhanger last chapter, but you know how those things can sneak up on you. Here's the next part of the story; I hope that everyone enjoys it. Thanks for reading, and please don't forget to review!

**Chapter 19: Matters of the Heart:**

After their second day at the beach, things began to change, just as Amara predicted. Bruce tried to be subtle about it, quietly arranging a touch of the romantic element to whatever it was they did alone together. Dinners began to have a touch of candlelight, a bottle of champagne or sparkling wine as their evening drink, and once in a while, the restaurant had a musician or group playing softly in the background. It was sweet, though the way Bruce looked at her across the table always made her blush.

Their daily trips out became more intimate as well. Quiet walks along the beach became very common, and were accompanied by conversation topics that ranged from the very deep to downright silly. Bruce learned her dream of helping all children discover the wonders of reading, and her hopes of creating a class at the library to help bring parents and their young children together in reading groups. Amara, meanwhile, discovered Bruce's own hopes for a better, safer Gotham City. She found out his desire to use his wealth to help the poor and homeless, namely by finding them jobs that weren't connected to the mob.

"It was a poor man like that who murdered my parents, presumably doing it out of desperation," Bruce told her one day, his voice tight with anger as he squeezed her hand, which had been resting comfortably in his. Clearly, he didn't believe that, but it had been his father's hope to try and help the less fortunate, and so Bruce had continued that legacy, even if it tore him up inside.

He also dreamed of a Gotham without the mob and the terror and crime it caused, even though he knew little of how to fight them. Bruce didn't want to sink to their level of violence, so he tried to spread his large fortune around to a number of charities, both great and small. He also tried to get others of his social standing to help out, but in some cases, it was difficult prying money from those of the social elite.

When they weren't on the beach or at dinner, Amara found herself being led along the sidewalks of Waikiki, shopping or just out for the nighttime atmosphere. This meant a lot of walking along with Bruce, usually with some sort of public display of affection. These affectionate gestures ranged from walking hand-in-hand to having his arm around her waist, keeping her close to him as they strolled through the crowds.

Throughout their walks, Amara began to realize that Bruce didn't know how obvious or subtle he wanted to be when it came to displaying his feelings for her in public. As much as she liked walking with her fingers entwined with Bruce's, she had to admit that she preferred having his arm wrapped possessively around her waist. It was touching, that he liked others to see she was 'his' girl, and nice to know that she was wanted that much by someone. She'd never admit it to him, but Amara liked that he thought of her that way.

During this whole thing, Alfred constantly found excuses to remain behind at the penthouse, often sending the two of them out on their own. Amara thought his sly winks and knowing smiles both annoying and amusing, especially since she had the nagging feeling that the elderly butler was hoping for something to happen between her and his employer.

"He needs someone to care for, and to care for him," Alfred had told her, when she'd asked if he approved of the whole thing. "Most of the time, he's always focused on work, his philanthropy, and keeping up appearances at parties and in public. It's about time he found a young lady who can make him happy and treat him as a man, not a billionaire."

Blushing, she'd had the distinct feeling that he was going to finish it with "someone like you." She felt honored that Alfred considered her good enough for the man he considered a foster son, and his opinion meant everything to her. With Alfred's approval and support, Amara felt slightly better about becoming more involved with Bruce Wayne.

Of course, all of their fun wasn't out in the open. Whenever they wanted time alone together, without the crowds and noise of the streets or beaches, Bruce took Amara into the den for some peace and quiet. It was a time for them to talk, laugh, and get to know one another better; and so far, it had worked out rather well, making for some very interesting conversation. They'd discovered a few of each other's bad habits, and traded lists of favorite movies, music, books, and everything else they could think of.

However, one night, Amara decided to bring up something serious. It was something that had been bothering her from the start of their dating ventures: namely, what society would think of him dating a middle-class librarian.

"I don't want to be an embarrassment to you," she'd explained as they settled in the den. "It's just that I know that the upper class has a different level of etiquette and ways of doing things, and I can't stand the thought of embarrassing you or Alfred."

Bruce had simply smiled and placed a comforting hand on hers. "You won't," he assured her. "You're smart, and you've got more guts than even the old lady society dragons." He chuckled at her blank stare. "You know; the old grandmothers and mothers who think they're well above the rest of the world because of their rank and money. I'd _love_ to see how you'd deal with them."

Amara had snorted and picked up a bowl of sour cream-and-onion chips before flipping on the television. "I might say something mean or a profanity before dumping champagne on the old hag's head," she remarked, provoking a laugh on his part.

Still, even though Bruce believed in her, Amara found it hard to believe that she would just be accepted by his social circle. Some might be open-minded, but most would likely look down on her and snub her in public. She might be strong enough to push on with her life after her abduction by The Joker, but facing a whole ballroom of snobbish rich folk was enough to intimidate anyone.

On the other hand, if she had Bruce with her, it might just be worth it to verbally slap all of those upper-class idiots in the face, just to see how they'd react.

Temporarily put at ease, Amara had decided to sit back and enjoy her time with Bruce, telling him to try and win her over _without_ using gobs of money to do so. He knew it would take more than just money to romance her, and Bruce appeared to like the challenge she presented. Fancy dinners were alright, but for the most part, they'd eaten at restaurants where the prices were modest –at least until Bruce tried to add a touch of the romantic by purchasing wine or champagne. But as long as he wasn't renting the entire restaurant out or hiring entire orchestras to entertain her, Amara decided to let him splurge a little bit during their dinners. The rest of the time, their evenings were spent like any other ordinary couple, something they both seemed to like.

"I don't understand why it's so hard for him to hold back, financially, when it comes to dating," she'd told Alfred one night, after Bruce had brought her back from a quiet dinner and stroll along a boardwalk. "Most guys are usually glad to have a girl who doesn't want them to spend money on them, but Bruce is the opposite. It's crazy."

Alfred had patted her shoulder and smiled. "He's so used to flashing his fortune, his Lamborghini and his Rolex to win women over that it's almost second nature to him," the old butler informed her. "Actually doing something creative, as well as romantic, is very new to him. Master Wayne has never really had a girlfriend, really –at least, not the sort that he could stick with for a long period of time. This is because he's constantly keeping up his playboy image, which is his weapon to fend off the matchmaking mothers and grandmothers. A true relationship is harder to keep up, and I think he likes the challenge you present to him. If there's one thing Master Wayne appreciates, it's a challenge."

Amara couldn't help but be amused at the thought of Bruce fighting off women with a stick, and realized that Bruce must really care for her if he was putting so much effort and thought into winning her over. It was sweet and thoughtful, and she began to appreciate everything he was trying to do in order to make this something more than just a fling in the tropics.

Sometimes, though, she had to firmly tell him that some of his plans were too over-the-top, namely because they were too expensive or wild. He'd once suggested renting a small private plane and flying over the island's volcanoes, thinking it would be a fascinating experience. Amara had rolled her eyes and told Bruce that if _he_ wanted to risk his life by getting dangerously close to erupting mountains, then he was welcome to do so; while he did that, she'd be at the penthouse, waiting for him to come back. Properly chastised, Bruce had decided instead to take her out for a day at the zoo.

Still, in spite of those kinds of small setbacks, Amara had never before in all her life been treated so well by anyone. There were evening walks with ice cream treats and fun conversation, as well as dinners at interesting restaurants and eateries where meal preparations were like shows in and of themselves. Their strolls along the private beaches sometimes experienced quiet moments, but they were always comfortable and friendly. It was all like nothing she'd ever experienced before.

Then, a week into their 'courtship,' Bruce had decided to take advantage of one of those quiet beach moments and pull her behind a palm tree, gently pressing a kiss to her lips.

After that, their kisses became more frequent, and oh, how soft and wonderful those kisses were. Soon, those kisses were not just for their beach walks. Eventually, whenever they found a secluded spot, either in the penthouse or on the street, there they were, Bruce's lips were so warm and eager on hers that Amara always lost her breath. He was a great kisser, too, and whenever he decided to deepen their kiss, her knees went weak and the air heated up around her. It was incredible.

And then, one night, Amara realized that their time in paradise was swiftly coming to an end. They would soon have to return to Gotham and, eventually, go out together in public. She wasn't quite ready for that; she had the uneasy feeling that appearing in public together might prove to be the ultimate test on whether or not her relationship with Bruce would last.

* * *

With every moment he spent with her, Bruce knew Amara was something very special.

Unlike the women he normally spent time with, she never automatically agreed with everything he suggested they do, or thought that all of his ideas were fantastic. She never expected him to give her money or expensive gifts just to show much he cared, nor did she hint at things she expected him to buy her. But best of all, whenever they kissed, Amara never threw herself at him, giving him empty kisses that were nothing except a public display of false affection.

Instead, Amara preferred him showing his affection for her through modest nights out on the town. No need to rent out an entire restaurant for some time alone together with her; she would much rather have the place buzzing with interesting conversation and laughter than with the silence of just the two of them. And if she wanted it to spend time with just him, well, that was what the den at the penthouse was for; add in a movie, some drinks and snack food, and it was the perfect night to be alone together. Not even Alfred would interrupt, and he was usually quite skilled at doing that.

And her kisses…Good Lord, her kisses were sweet, loving and gentle, so different from the others he'd gotten in the past. Her mouth was soft under his, and timid, as though she didn't know how to respond to his kisses. Never before had someone acted to his kisses in such a way. He liked it.

Thus far, Bruce was having the time of his life. It had been ages since he'd had the luxury to go out and have real fun with a real smile of enjoyment on his face. When he'd been out with other women, attending parties, balls, or even out to dinner, a false mask was put into place to make it appear as though he were having a good time. That had all been to maintain his reputation as a playboy, and most of the time, he'd only been pretending to have fun.

This time, it was different. Amara truly was wonderful to be around, and Bruce knew it was because she was, as they say, 'real.' There were no falsely affectionate smiles or laughter, no feigned interest in what he was saying, and she didn't pretend that she was completely in love with him when it was really his money she was after. She didn't inflate his ego, either, but rather deflated it with a roll of her eyes, a sharp quip, or both. She kept him grounded, which he knew he needed. Getting arrogant could get him in big trouble, both in business and his, ah, 'night life.' He liked the way she did that. Their banter drew them closer, showing different sides of their humor, as well as their personalities.

Of course, the closer the two of them grew, the more Bruce began realizing that he was starting to act a lot like a love-struck teenager. It was very much unlike him, but Bruce couldn't help it. He'd been attracted to a lot of women, and had bedded several, but he'd never been in love before –well, at least, not to the point where he was willing to bend over backwards to make someone happy. With Amara, he was more than eager to so. It was sappy, yes, but then, there had been very few points in Bruce's life where he could let all of his other façades fade away and let his romantic side shine through. Not only did it make Amara happy, but it also made him feel good about their whole growing romance.

Well, almost. There was that _small_ secret that he had, namely the one with the pointed-eared cowl and the tank-like car in the caves underneath his mansion. Eventually, Bruce knew he'd have to tell her who he was –that, as Batman, he risked his life every night as Gotham City's infamous vigilante crime fighter.

It wasn't that he was afraid to tell her, far from it! He knew Amara admired Batman and everything he stood for, but to find out that he, Bruce Wayne, was _Batman_ –well, he just wasn't sure what her reaction would be, and that was what scared him most. There was a wide range of ways that Amara could react: one of them might be that she would receive the news and happily continue supporting him. The other, he imagined, was that she'd throw a screaming tantrum and leave him. That last one did not sound promising.

But there was one other thing that was unsettling for him, and that was: did she feel the same way for him that he did for her?

He certainly admired, respected, and cared for her very much, but what abut Amara? Bruce certainly knew about his own swirl of chaotic feelings and thoughts, but not about hers. He knew that patience was very important in situations like these, so patient he would have to be.

Well, at least, he'd try to be. There really was no reason to rush into anything, but there was the chance that she might change her mind about involving herself with him, and Bruce didn't want that. No other woman had treated him like a regular man, not since his beloved mother, and he liked being 'normal' to someone. To Amara, he wasn't a billionaire, a boss, or a way to climb the social ladder, and he wanted to have that with him for as long as he lived.

Deep inside his heart, Bruce knew there was only one way to keep what he had, but it wasn't yet time to act on it –not yet. That would be in a day or two, and when they returned to where this had all started, he intended to make it something to remember.

* * *

Staring at the suitcase in front of her, Amara sighed. It was practically overflowing with the clothes Bruce had bought for her over their stay in Hawaii, and she couldn't help but wonder how she was going to fit all of it inside. Another suitcase wasn't necessary, but maybe a smaller bag? Alfred would know; the man was full of helpful advice that was priceless. Yup, it was definitely time for Alfred's help.

Turning, she spotted the large black velvet box on the nearby table and froze, a warm feeling spreading through her as she looked at it. The lid was open, revealing a silver necklace with a pendant lying delicately atop the velvet. A lovely sky-blue shell that she had found at the beach was set in silver, forming the pendant, and the necklace itself was a thin, solid strip of silver as wide as her finger that formed a graceful upside-down teardrop, the point of which ended right in the groove of her collarbone, where the pendant lay. The clasp in the back locked in place, effectively blending into the smooth, polished silver of the necklace. It was beautiful and perfectly done. Amara loved it.

Beside that box was a much smaller one that held a pair of earrings made from a purple shell that had broken in half when she'd dropped it. She'd almost wept at the loss of such a lovely shell, but Bruce had promised to have it made into something more beautiful, and here it was: a pair of gold earrings with pale purple shell embedded in it. They were lovely, but there was one tiny problem.

"I don't have pierced ears," she'd told him when presented with the gift.

Bruce, of course, had been crushed by this. Amara knew he prided himself on finding things out about her, usually through their spending so much time together. But this he had somehow missed, though she didn't blame him. She wore her hair loose over her ears, and rarely pulled it back, so it wasn't his fault that he didn't know. It was the thought that counted, and Amara told him so, winning a smile from as she kissed his cheek in thanks.

And it wasn't a total waste. Bruce had promised to have them turned into something else, maybe a bracelet or even clip-on earrings, but Amara told him not to. Who knows, perhaps they'd come in handy someday as an heirloom in the future. She did want children someday, so there was the chance that her own child could receive the shell earrings and enjoy them.

Picking up the small velvet box, Amara looked at them and smiled, her heart filled with a warm feeling that she'd never experienced before. It reminded her of the crushes she'd had in high school and college, but this time, it was deeper. The nervous tingle she'd felt for past crushes paled in comparison to the burning warmth she felt whenever she was with Bruce, a warmth that was growing hotter each time he wrapped an arm around her or held her hand. Whenever he did either of those things, her heart leaped into her throat and her cheeks flushed, both sensations that her mother said she'd felt when meeting Amara's father.

'_Oh, my god, I'm totally falling hard for him_,' she thought, closing the case and setting it back on the table. Alfred would be here soon to take her things down to the car, so she had to hurry.

Sighing, Amara looked at the velvet boxes and shook her head. It was crazy, falling for Bruce like this. They'd known each other for such a short time, yet it seemed like forever. Between what had happened with The Joker and this vacation, they now knew so much about each other's likes, dislikes, even bad habits, and still enjoyed one another's company.

'_Then again, we have packed several months worth of dating into less than two weeks_,' she thought, grinning while trying to force the suitcase shut. '_With all of the talking we've done, it's like those speed-dating events, only with whole days to get to know one another instead of minutes_.'

But now it was almost over, and her nerves were beginning to act up again. Those worried thoughts and beliefs that had hovered at the back of her mind returned, and it was hard to push them back. Images of Bruce leaving her for a drop-dead-gorgeous heiress or supermodel flashed through her head, and the fear of being left a heartbroken fool filled her heart.

'_Don't be silly_,' she scolded herself. '_Bruce wouldn't do that_.'

That didn't stop her from thinking it, though. Once they were back in Gotham and he went to a party, alone, Bruce was sure to find someone who interested him a lot more than her. How could years of being a playboy be overridden by a couple weeks with a librarian he'd recently met?

'_Stranger things have happened_,' Amara admitted to herself. '_Like being kidnapped by a makeup-wearing clown, then being saved by a man in a bat outfit_.'

Well, whatever happened, good or bad, she'd do her best to get through it. Right now, she would enjoy her time with Bruce and face whatever it was that fate threw at her.

With one last shove, the suitcase closed enough to zip shut, just as Alfred appeared in the doorway to carry it downstairs.

* * *

The plane took off mid-morning so they would land in Gotham at a reasonable hour. Bruce had arranged it that way, hoping that Amara would be able to adjust to the time change easier if they arrived at a decent time, thereby reducing the chance of jet-lag. Right now, she was reading a book and nodding along with the music traveling through her headphones. It was fun to watch, her mouth moving as she either silently read along with her book, or lip-synced with the music.

Unable to resist, Bruce sat and stared at her from across the plane. Though he'd never admit (unless forced to by his butler), Bruce loved watching Amara's face. It wasn't a model- or goddess-like face, but rather a fascinating one, shaped so that she drew the eye twice: once for a first encounter glance, and twice for a longer look. Though not ravishingly beautiful, Amara had a prettiness that would age far more gracefully than most supermodels would. Her beauty would only grow softer and gentler, making her more open and approachable to others.

Reaching towards a cigar box by his chair, Bruce fingered the wooden container and the elegant designs carved into it. Bruce didn't smoke, so box was empty and mostly for show. There was a combination lock on the front, presumably to keep people from swiping the expensive tobacco products within. In reality, it _did_ keep a treasure safe, one that Bruce held in high value.

Inside the wooden box was another container, a small velvet box that held a beautiful canary yellow diamond worth a small fortune. It had belonged to his mother, Martha, and Bruce had kept it in the hopes of finding a woman worthy of wearing something that had once belonged to his beloved mother.

And now he had.

Smiling, Bruce took his hand off the box and glanced at the business papers in his lap without really seeing them. They were only a cover to look busy while he actually lost himself in thought. Right now, thoughts about his future drifted through his head, mostly focusing on two things. One was when he would present this precious gift to the woman sitting across from him. The second…well, the second was to try and decide whether or not to tell her his greatest secret before or after he gave her the ring.

* * *

AN: Yet another evil chapter ending, but trust me, it's all worth it in the end. (grins and winks) Please don't forget to review! Thanks!


	20. Welcome Home

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing related to _**Batman**_ and that universe. Only original characters are mine.

AN: Okay, this may surprise everyone, but this story is quickly coming to a close. Don't panic, though; there might be a sequel. Feel free to take the poll on my bio page to let me know if I should do one, or if I should just leave everything up to the reader's imagination.

Anyway, there is more action in this chapter. I know it's been kind of dull and sappy for a few chapters, so hopefully this will make up for it. Enjoy, and please review! Thanks!

**Chapter 20: Welcome Home:**

The trip back to Gotham was a quick one, at least in Amara's opinion. She passed the time reading, writing all of her experiences down in a journal, and listening to her new MP3 player, which was another gift from Alfred. That butler really did think of everything.

When the music began to grow repetitive, and her journal was full of everything she could remember, Amara grew bored and looked around for something to do. Eventually, Bruce turned on the television and popped in a movie while the flight attendants served refreshments. They settled onto the couch and he had pulled her close, giving Amara the chance to rest her head on Bruce's shoulder while they enjoyed the film. It was blissful and rather intimate, with the lights dimmed for the full movie theater experience.

Privately, Amara was thrilled to have one last quiet moment between them. When they got back to Gotham, work would once again consume their lives, and their private time together would be severely limited. They would have to act like other dating couples, forced to schedule dinners, movies, and other nights out on the town around their work schedules. Amara's time was easy, since her hours at the library were always the same, but Bruce –well, he was the owner of a multi-billion dollar company, so his time wasn't exactly orderly when it came to work.

And the stress he was occasionally under had been evident before they started the movie. Up until then, Bruce had been wrapped up in papers from Wayne Enterprises, focusing on them for hours before tossing them inside a briefcase and slamming it shut with a relieved sigh. He really needed some relaxation, at least for a little while, and she was glad to be part of that 'quiet time.'

Following the movie came lunch, a wonderful meal of sliced beef served in a wine sauce, mashed potatoes, and sparkling cider. When the had finished, Amara selected another film and popped it in, a longer one that ended close to dinner time. The evening meal was light (chicken Caesar salad, fruit, and whatever they chose to drink), since they would be landing soon afterwards and the pilots expected turbulence. It was delicious, though.

Finally, two hours after supper, the pilot announced their decent into Gotham. It was an easy landing, and when the plane pulled into its assigned area, a limo was waiting for them. Unfortunately, so was a swarm of paparazzi, their camera flashbulbs going off like mad as Bruce took Amara's hand and led her down the stairs to the car. He seemed used to this sort of thing, but Amara was nearly blinded by the flashing lights going off in her face.

Luckily, Alfred was there beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders and gently guiding her to the limo as Bruce kept a firm hold on her hand. They made it to the limo with little trouble, and practically dove inside to avoid the reporters crowding around them.

When they'd settled into their seats, they were surprised to see Lucius Fox, Bruce's trusted employee, sitting there with a smile on his face.

"Mister Fox," Bruce said with a nod of his head.

"Mister Wayne," the other man replied. "I hope you had a nice vacation?" At this, he looked pointedly at Amara and smirked. "Though I can easily guess that you did."

Bruce smiled and squeezed Amara's hand, which he hadn't let go of once since they'd left the plane. "I most certainly did," he said. "Now the question is: how did the press know about it?"

Lucius shook his head and shrugged. "You know them; if there's a story to be had, they'll find it no matter what. In this case, though, it was more of an amateur photographer that spilled the beans about this whole thing."

He handed Bruce a large laminated picture. "There was a photo of you two that showed up in the tabloids over a week ago. It's not that good, you can barely make out Miss Thomas in it, but it clearly shows you, Mr. Wayne, on a beach with a young woman in a swimsuit. Naturally, lots of folks want to know who the lucky woman is, and if you're starting to get serious with her."

"Oh, lord," Amara groaned, covering her face with her free hand. The other was still entwined with Bruce's.

She should have known that something like this would happen, but in all the time they'd spent together, it never really occurred to her that the whole city would know about her relationship with Bruce before they even got back. Even worse, her job might be at stake; she was dating a huge sponsor of the library, and a relationship with Bruce might just end up getting her fired. It was ethically wrong for a library employee to date one of the main benefactors, and there were probably a dozen people who would have a fit if they knew about her and Bruce.

"I wouldn't worry about it, if I were you, Miss Thomas," Lucius said in a comforting voice. "People are mostly curious, and until now, most didn't even know it's you that Mr. Wayne is seeing. Even if they find out, I'm sure your job position is safe, since most of what happens at that library of yours depends on how generous Mr. Wayne is feeling. If you're fired, he might just stop contributing as much as he did when you were there."

Amara really wished that he wouldn't say that. She didn't want the library and its patrons to suffer just because of her. Still, she had to admit it did help her feel better, knowing that her job was safe –at least for now.

The rest of the drive was uneventful. Lucius and Bruce talked business while Alfred asked what she wanted for breakfast tomorrow morning and when she'd go back to work. Amara replied that she'd return to the library within the next day or two, when she'd had the chance to unpack and get over her jet-lag.

"Seems like you're not giving yourself much time to relax between now and the Autumn Ball in a couple nights," Lucius said, quirking an eyebrow.

Amara stared at him. "Autumn Ball? What's that?"

"It's a party –or ball, actually– thrown by the well-to-do, the important, and the glamorous," Alfred replied. "There are numerous people who are invited as well, like local heroes, people who have been actively involved in their community, and even a few regular folks who are asked to go. Everyone dresses up nicely in their tuxes and gowns, dance the night away and have a good time."

Lucius was nodding. "And of course, Mr. Wayne is expected to attend as an honored guest," he said, looking pointedly at his boss. "Since he's such a well-known philanthropist, it's only right that he show up, at least for an hour or two."

Amara expected Bruce to groan in complaint about this, and was surprised to see him turn and smile at her. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to go with me?" he asked, hazel eyes pleading with her to say yes. "I'd like it if you went as my date for the evening."

Blushing, she nodded. Though she wasn't usually one for huge, elegant parties, this one might be fun. Her mind instantly began to think about what in the world she was going to wear to the event.

She didn't have time to think about it a great deal. Once they reached the penthouse, everything was in chaos. Amara rushed to her room to unpack, sort clothes into piles for laundry, and put everything neatly away where it belonged before Alfred got to it.

Bruce, meanwhile, went into a room at the back of the penthouse to talk business with Mr. Fox, leaving Alfred to take care of everything that needed to be seen to while they'd been gone.

As ordered, Alfred went around the place, inspecting what needed to be tidied up and seeing what groceries needed to be bought. Apparently a maid had not been hired to take care of the penthouse in their absence, so Alfred had a busy time dusting the place before heading out to the market.

This was all fine by Amara. She was able to get things done quickly, and managed to finish a load of laundry before Alfred noticed what she was doing and tried to stop her. He only relented when Amara reminded him that more important things needed his attention, and that she was perfectly fine seeing to her own things. Once Alfred was finished catching up on the cleaning the rooms and the food shopping, however, he overtook the task of doing her laundry, namely by getting to the laundry basket and the washing machine before she did.

By the time everything was seen to, it was time for bed. Amara collapsed onto the plush mattress with relish, and didn't wake up until the next morning.

* * *

When things had settled down in the penthouse, Bruce decided to put one of his plans into action. The idea had been brewing in his head ever since Lucius had reminded him about the Autumn Ball, and the excitement was eating at him like crazy.

The day after their return to Gotham, Bruce sat down to breakfast and immediately informed both his butler and his houseguest that they would be going out shopping for a new evening gown for Amara. Just as he expected, Amara immediately insisted that she didn't need one, but Bruce wouldn't hear of it. Once the breakfast dishes had been cleared away, the three of them piled into the car and headed to the nearest string of designer boutiques.

Now, Amara might cringe at having to wear something so expensive, but Bruce wanted her dressed in the finest and most beautiful dress they could find. It wasn't that he was trying to force her to fit into his world; he merely wanted to make sure that no one looked down on her and treated her poorly when his back was turned. He couldn't bear to think of her at the Autumn Ball, almost in tears because someone tried to make her look bad in front of a crowd. Bruce knew that Amara could hold her own in most cases, but it was something else entirely to take on the cold-blooded socialites he'd been forced to deal with for so many years. So to help her, he was going to outfit her with society's best kind of armor: a fashionable gown that would be the equal of every other socialite's.

As expected, the venture took several hours, but finally, it was done. They visited a dozen shops, and seen Amara try on dozens of gowns, but at the final stop of the day, she found something she liked. That was a good thing, because the Autumn Ball was tomorrow night, which was unusual; the event always happened later on in the Fall, but had been moved up several weeks. Lucius had told him it was because most of the upper class attendants were leaving soon for the Hamptons and wanted to be able to attend the Ball before they left, which was annoying.

This put a bit of pressure on Bruce's shoulders. First, he had to rush and get a dress for Amara; second, there was something else that he felt she needed if she was going to attend the ball.

During their private talks at Bruce's penthouse, Lucius had told him that The Joker was still on the loose, and had been disturbingly quiet lately. That alone sent Bruce's suspicions into overdrive, and he'd asked his friend to create something very special for Amara to wear to the Ball. Thankfully, it didn't take long to make, and it was waiting for Bruce at the security desk when they got back. Amara was too busy fussing over her new dress to notice it, so Bruce was able to stuff it into his jacket pocket and get into the elevator without her seeing it.

When the elevator arrived at their stop, he fingered the box in his pocket as he watched Amara race for her room, apparently in a rush to hang up her new garment before it wrinkled. Chuckling, Bruce trailed slowly behind, taking a more casual pace to Amara's bedroom door. He knocked, and when she told him to come in, he opened the door to the surprising sight of her standing over the hem of her new dress with a pair of scissors in her hand. She grinned at his horrified expression and held up a small black thread. Bruce smiled back –it had probably come loose and she'd snipped it off to keep it from catching and unraveling the garment.

Clearing his throat, Bruce pulled out the box and held it out to her. "I thought I'd get you something pretty to wear with your dress tomorrow." He held up a hand to stop her protests. "I know what you're going to say, but I wanted you to have some sort of jewelry that matched your dress. You don't have to open it until tomorrow. I just thought you should have it now."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left, silently wondering if the twisting sensation in his gut was trying to tell him something. Whatever it was, it would happen soon, and he had to be ready.

* * *

A knife spun through the air and embedded itself into the plaster wall with a thud, making him laugh. The plan was all laid down; the men were in place, and all of them were armed and ready to help their boss in his latest scheme. It was to be a bold act, one that would declare his official return to the Gotham crime scene, as well as strike fear into the hearts of everyone who encountered him during the little scheme he'd cooked up.

'_Normally I hate plans, but when it comes to lust and war, I'll make an exception_.'

It'd all begun the minute he'd discovered that photo of his luscious librarian on the beach with that wealthy pretty-boy. If there was one thing no man likes to see, it's his woman in the arms of another, and it's even worse when it's a pansy idiot like Bruce Wayne. Amara needed a real man, someone who wasn't soft in the head by being born into a rich family.

'_Someone like me_,' he thought, grinning as the tip of his tongue moving from one corner of his strange lips to another. '_And if it's riches she wants, well, there's lots of fun ways I can come up with that_.'

"Everything's set, boss," one goon said through the closed door. "We're ready to go when you are."

His grin got even wider. Show time!

* * *

With a deep breath to settle her nerves, Amara checked herself in the mirror one last time. The dress fit perfectly, there were no loose threads hang out from anywhere, and her hair had finally decided to behave and stay wavy, just like she wanted.

Glancing down at herself, she managed a small smile. Tonight it was a floor-length red dress with a sheer black lace layer over it, trimmed with dark red lace along the short sleeves and V-shaped neckline. The collar dipped and ended just above her breasts, low enough to tease, but not show off a great deal of cleavage. The bodice of the dress wrapped tightly around her torso, like a corset without laces, allowing her to breathe normally but still cut a very attractive figure. Best of all, it hadn't cost an arm and a leg, though it was still much more than she wanted to spend on an outfit.

Now fully dressed, there was still one thing that Amara had to put on, and that was the small necklace that Bruce had bought for her. It was a small round ruby the size of her fingernail set in shining gold, hung on a thin gold chain just long enough to drop the pendant above her breasts. It was simple, but lovely, and she appreciated it very much.

"Amara, are you ready?" Alfred called through the door. "Master Wayne is waiting."

She took a deep breath. "Well, here goes nothing."

* * *

Standing there with Amara on his arm, Bruce felt like the luckiest man in the room. She was incredibly alluring, dark beauty in that dress: -dark, surreal and elegant, something that most of the other women here weren't. More than a few females had cast jealous glances in Amara's direction, though Bruce couldn't be sure if it was because it was the dress or because she was his date instead of them.

Their arrival had been blinding, since the front entrance was covered with photographers and reporters doing stories on the event. The rich and famous were expected, as were the philanthropists, the politicians, and the local heroes such as police officers, firefighters, and other important public servants. Commissioner Gordon was here with his wife, which was astounding, considering the man hated this sort of thing. Bruce highly suspected that he'd come only because Mrs. Gordon wanted a night out of the house.

Bruce, meanwhile, was resting a bit easier now that his relationship with Amara was out in the open. The news people had recognized Amara from her incident with The Joker, and every one of them could see how things stood between her and Bruce. When they'd drifted past the flocks of reporters, everyone shouted questions, asking how they felt about one another, how long had they been together, and what their plans were for after the party. Amara had blushed at that last question, easily picking up the innuendo hidden within it, but ignoring it.

And now here they were, standing with the Commissioner and his wife, chatting about the crime rate in the city. Thanks to Lucius, Bruce already knew that it was not too bad; there had been certain situations where Batman would have been welcome, but in the end, the police had handled it. Still, he missed fighting crime, and would probably make a few 'appearances' soon. He had been gone for too long, and it was time to let the city know that The Dark Knight was still out there, protecting its citizens.

In the corner, the orchestra struck up a slow song, and all of the couples drifted to the center of the floor. Bruce suddenly realized that he had never danced with Amara, and that a slow dance gave him the perfect opportunity to hold her close. So, with a sly smirk, he nodded to both the Commissioner and Mrs. Gordon and escorted his lady onto the floor.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Bruce pulled her into a tender, but firm embrace, his head bending so that his cheek pressed softly against hers. The heady aroma of her perfume, the soft flowery smell of her shower gel, and the fresh scent of her shampoo all mixed perfectly together to create something that was uniquely hers. He liked it.

"I don't think I've told you that you look amazing," he whispered into her ear.

She chuckled softly. "You did, several times. In the penthouse, in the car, when we came in…oh, and when a few people turned to look at us at the buffet table. That time you said the reason they were staring was because I was the most attractive woman in the room."

Bruce chuckled, too. "Well, I can't be blamed for say it, since it's true."

Praying that she wouldn't think him too bold, Bruce gently pulled her closer. With her small stature, the top of her head came to the exact center of his chest, making it the perfect embrace. He was relieved when her only reaction was exactly what he wanted her to do, and that was to rest her head on his chest.

For several moments they swayed together that way, enjoying the romantic moment as the orchestra played in the background.

Sadly, it was not to last, because just as the song ended, the sound of rapid gun fire filled the room, shattering the blissfulness of the evening.

* * *

It had been incredibly easy to get into the little shindig that the well-to-do folks were throwing for themselves. All of the 'security' was in the front half of the building, not the back, so it was simple to knock out a few of the staff to get inside. He would have liked to have disposed of any witnesses, but gunfire would have attracted attention, and he wanted to save his knives for a grand entrance. Since he'd worked so hard to clean them, it'd be a shame to bloody them too soon.

Entering the ballroom, he looked around and rolled his eyes. There were so many rich and useless idiots at the "Ball," it was nauseating. While some of his boys let off a few rounds of gun shots, the rest began to take care of the security guards that had come running to help the partygoers. Goons that didn't get involved in the violence started to divest some of the wealthy of their money and jewelry.

Grinning, The Joker carefully smoothed a hand over his violet suit and took a spot in the center of the room, waving his automatic around to quiet everyone down. The room went eerily silent, every man and woman frozen in fear at the sight of him, just as he liked it. Best of all, there were a lot of important people that he'd like to put a bullet hole in, all standing helpless in fear.

Not that he'd kill them now, of course. It was too easy and too low-class to just shoot someone; The Joker was better than that, and he already had plans in mind for each of the people he wanted out of the way. If he got rid of them now, that'd ruin all his fun, and he hated it when that happened.

'_And speaking of fun_,' he thought while licking his lips. '_It's about time I have some_.'

"Good evening, you party animals." The words were full of mockery and cold amusement. "Even though there's nothing I'd like more than to blow each and every one of you away in a hail of bullets, tonight I have a different agenda."

Several of his men came up to join him, their semi-automatics leveled at the crowd and ready to fire, there to assure their boss's demands were followed to the letter. The Joker grinned even wider and glanced around the room, searching for, but not finding, his target. Sigh. Well, time for a bit of 'help' from the crowd.

"Now, try and be a bit helpful here, folks," he said, pointing out a woman and making a beckoning motion.

One of the men brought her over, dragging her the short distance, since it seemed she didn't want to cooperate. Grabbing the woman's face, The Joker pressed the barrel of his gun into her chin and looked her straight in the eye.

"I'm only going to ask you once," he whispered. "Do you know where Miss Amara Thomas is?"

The woman nodded, causing him to smile. "Good, now we're getting somewhere. Now, do you know _where_ she is?"

A quick flick of his captive's eyes gave him a direction, which was a start. He turned his head, following where she'd looked, and jerked his head in that direction. The crowd parted before him like the Red Sea, slowly creating a path that led right to his target.

It was a sight that made his blood race. There she stood, delicious in a red-and-black dress as the bodice clinging tightly to her figure; the V-shaped neckline showed just enough to make any sane man want to see more of her. And, oh, how he wanted to see much more of her…

Unfortunately, she was in the arms of that annoying pretty-boy, Bruce Wayne. The billionaire had his arms tightly around her, holding her like a man holds onto his love.

"Bring her here," he snarled to his goons as he sent his hostage flying to the ground. She landed with a cry of pain, which he ignored. There was only one woman he was interested in, and she was making it very hard for his boys to retrieve her.

Even though he was angry, The Joker thought it amusing to watch how two big strong guys wrestled with a petite woman, prying her away from Mr. Wayne's grasp and trying to drag her the short distance to their boss. They'd had to punch the billionaire in the gut to get him to let go of her, and The Joker couldn't help but laugh aloud at that. He only stopped laughing when his lovely lady was before him, dark brown eyes sparkling with a mixture of fear and defiance.

Handing his gun off to a goon, the makeup-caked criminal stepped forward to firmly grasp her face in a purpled gloved hand. "Hello, gorgeous," he softly hissed to her. "Did you _miss_ me?"

Not giving her a chance to answer, he spun her and pulled her flush against him. In the blink of an eye, he had shaken a knife out of his sleeve and flicking it open, raising it to run the flat of the blade over her cheek before trailing it down to her chin. Hmm, she smelled good, too; a spicy, heady perfume scented the air around her. Delicious!

"Time to go!" he bellowed. Grinning, he addressed the crowd, "Sorry to rob, kidnap and run, but there's just so much to do. Boys, get the doors, will you?"

That was when a small commotion broke out. Of course, the pretty-boy had decided that he didn't like the idea of his date heading off with someone else, so he'd chosen to act. Not that he got very far; The Joker couldn't help smirking as several of his men pistol-whipped the arrogant ass, effectively knocking him to the ground, unconscious.

"No!" gasped his hostage.

He pulled her closer. "Quiet," he whispered. She struggled for a moment, but went still when a gunman pointed his automatic gun to the playboy's head. "Be a good girl, and maybe I'll just let the man live, huh?"

She froze. When he saw she was going to be obedient, The Joker smirked. "Good girl."

A wave of his hand and his boys came running, covering his back as they made their escape.

* * *

She hadn't wanted to go, at least not easily, but Amara knew she didn't have a choice. The Joker had threatened Bruce's life, and she couldn't let him or anyone else get hurt because of her; after all, it was because of The Joker's obsession with her that had caused all of this.

Wincing, she tried to keep up with her kidnapper's hurried pace, a difficult to do in a long dress. Finally, The Joker grew impatient and picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder as he ran. Out the back door they went, and Amara had a sense of déjà vu, which wasn't a good thing considering what had happened last time.

Closing her eyes, she wondered what had happened to Bruce, and prayed that he was alright. It was her fault that he was in this mess. Somehow, she'd managed to catch the attention of The Joker, and the madman was willing to hurt, torture, and possibly kill anyone who got in his way, including Bruce.

'_I should have ended this earlier_,' she thought as a door banged open. '_If I'd ended this whole thing with Bruce, or stopped it while we were in Hawaii, none of this would have happened_.'

Well, that wasn't true. The Joker might have caught her another time, maybe at work or while out grocery shopping. He _was_ insane, after all, so there was no telling what he was capable of.

"Keep your head down, sweet cheeks," her abductor quipped as the sound of opening car doors reached her ears.

Without a word, she was tossed into the back of a large car, followed close behind by The Joker. Settling into the leather seats, she heard the sound of doors closing and a vehicle honking behind them. As though that were a signal, the car she was in began to move, just as The Joker put a hand on her leg and a knife near her face.

"So, tell me, Amara," he whispered, leaning in close. "Did you _really_ think that I wouldn't come for you?"

Then there was the sound of an explosion going off, and her stomach dropped. Help would not be coming anytime soon.

* * *

AN: Wow, really long chapter this time! It has a bit of everything in it, which I hope made it all interesting. Batman will be appearing in the next chapter, which I promise will be fun. Please review and let me know what you think. Thanks!


	21. Dramatic Rescues

Disclaimer: I own nothing involving **_Batman_**, **_The Dark Knight_**, or anything related to that franchise. This is just me being creative. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Well, I just received my first flame for this story. Apparently the reviewer thought it was moving too slowly for their tastes, which is fine. Although they are welcome to their opinion, and are free to go and find stories more suited to their liking, no hard feelings, this reviewer was rather mean-spirited, and the review has been deleted.

I did receive another review, however, that _called _itself a flame, but was really more of a criticism when it came to the pace of my story, claiming that it was rather dull and that they wished I would get on with it. Though I do not agree with it, I respect this reader's opinions as well, though it is sort of ironic that, had these two had stuck around for a little bit longer, they would have found the action and excitement they both sought. Funny, isn't it?

This simply makes me more appreciative of the wonderful readers and reviewers that I have. Thank you so much for your support! You all rock! Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 21: Dramatic Rescues:**

With a bruise forming at his temple and his stomach still aching from where he'd been kicked, Bruce managed to ignore the pain, instead focusing on the anger boiling inside him. The anger was mixed with guilt, since he knew it was partially his fault that this whole thing had happened. If he hadn't invited Amara to his fundraiser party all those weeks ago, none of this would have happened. What was worse was that he'd also brought her to the Ball, bringing her out into the open for The Joker to take while innocent people were hurt and threatened.

"It's not your fault, Master Wayne," Alfred said as they drove away from the hotel, Bruce clutching a bag of ice to his head as they entered the flow of traffic. "The Joker would have found out where Amara was no matter what. The lunatic has eyes and ears everywhere, and tracking her down would have been easy. He could have taken her when she was most vulnerable, possibly while she was heading into or away from the library. He might even have taken her directly from work. Therefore, you're not to blame."

Bruce gripped the ice bag tighter. He'd been given the plastic sack after The Joker and his goons had left and the bombs had gone off, shaking the hotel to its foundations. These were only distractions, however; explosives tucked into dumpsters and garbage cans in the rear of the hotel in order to cause panic amongst the partygoers and the hotel's staff. Everyone was so busy ducking and screaming that all thoughts of The Joker, his men, and their kidnap victim fled.

When the explosions had faded and the dust began to settle, things had been quickly whipped into order by Commissioner Gordon. The minute the place became quiet, the Commissioner of Police had begun shouting orders, demanding that someone hand him a phone so he could call his best people to get out there. He also ordered a few people to call 9-1-1, and for others to begin seeing if anyone was hurt.

As one of the wounded, Bruce had been briskly looked over by a doctor who was attending the Ball. Except for a few bruises, he had been pronounced fine. Ice and plastic bags had been provided by the hotel's staff, and when the ambulances arrived, Bruce had been forced to let a few emergency medics see to his minor wounds and check him out.

Finally, after being hovered over by the medics and given a clean bill of health, Bruce had thought he'd be left alone so that he could go after Amara.

Unfortunately, that was not the case. While the police took statements from the crowd and their bomb squad combed the building to make sure no more charges were set, the Commissioner cornered Bruce before he could slip away. Reluctantly, Bruce gave Gordon Alfred's cell phone number and watched as he call his butler, explaining what had happened and what needed to be done regarding the situation. Since it was Bruce's date that had been taken, Gordon had decided to escort the wounded billionaire to the police station under tight security. It was believed that there might be a ransom call from The Joker, and that a 24-hour watch needed to be put on Bruce, just in case.

However, under the sleeves of his tuxedo, Bruce pressed a button on his wrist watch, signaling for Alfred to ignore whatever the Commissioner was saying and to stay in the car. Both he and Alfred knew that following police protocol would waste precious time when it came to Amara's life, so it was no surprise when Bruce slipped away while the Commissioner was busy talking to a few panicked citizens. Once he was out of the ballroom, he snuck out a side door to the car and told Alfred to floor it.

"How are you going to find out where she is?" Alfred asked as they merged into a lane of traffic. "Amara could be anywhere, and it's not like we know where The Joker's hide out is."

Bruce had to smile. "I gave her a ruby pendant to wear tonight," he said, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his tux. "I thought to be extra cautious and had Lucius Fox put a small GPS tracking device in it. There will be no trouble finding her."

It wasn't long before they arrived at the penthouse, Alfred dropping his employer off so that he could race inside and change into a more _appropriate_ suit. The moment he was changed, Batman raced down to the Tumbler and floored out onto the streets of Gotham, focused on the glowing dot that pulsed on the computer screen.

* * *

Her second ride with The Joker was just as terrifying as the first, if not more so. This time, Amara was alone in the back of a car with him, which, in her mind, was a very bad thing. The Joker wouldn't try anything with his goons around, but when it was just him with her, she felt eerily exposed and vulnerable, particularly when there was a knife hovering near her.

It was frighteningly quiet, too. For some reason, she expected The Joker to be a talkative person, but for some reason, he said nothing. Strangely enough, he was actually humming, a random tune that he seemed to be making up as he went along. His mouth was in a broad smile as he looked around, eyes darting from one part of the car to another as one of his gloved hands remained on her thigh, occasionally roaming up to her knee, then back again.

With such a light grip on her, it was clear that the crazed man wasn't worried about Amara making an escape. Besides, his lingering touch was enough to petrify her with fear. She knew what he was capable of, and if she even thought of making a break for it, it would be a bad idea. The Joker was more like a waiting tiger than the crazed kitten he appeared just now: he was very fast, and his knives very sharp, which made him a very dangerous creature indeed.

Then he spoke.

"Hmm, don't you look lovely this evening," he muttered, lifting his hand from her leg to caress her cheek. "All dressed up for a night on the town with the city's richest, most eligible bachelor."

Amara suddenly found herself pinned to the back of the seat, The Joker's left hand gripping her face while the other waved his knife in front of her nose. He was angry, but it was a calm anger, the kind that came just before a predator struck. It would have made her feel a lot better if he were yelling at her; as it was, a cold chill spread throughout her body, almost paralyzing her.

"Why'd you have to go for a playboy like him, huh?" The Joker whispered, licking his scarred, red-painted lips. "Guys like him don't _appreciate_ women like you. You deserve a man who'll be more, ah, _affectionate_ towards you."

She gulped. The last thing she wanted was to know his definition of 'affection.' With his level of insanity and cruelty, Amara knew that it was almost impossible for The Joker to feel any sort of emotion. He might claim otherwise, but he was a sociopath, someone incapable of feeling anything except a sick, twisted joy at the suffering of others. He might feel a bit of lust, but nothing more than that. All of this was just a strange obsession of his, and once he had whatever 'kicks' were to be had from kidnapping and torturing her, she was dead.

"No worries, sweetheart," he whispered, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. "We'll be there soon, and then…then the _real_ fun begins."

Then he backed away, sliding back into his former seat and humming lightly, just as he had before.

* * *

For the rest of the ride, Amara sat frozen in her seat, staring out the window and wondering when, not if, she was going to die.

Beside her, The Joker smiled to himself and kept a tight grip on her by draping an arm around her shoulders and holding her close. He constantly whispered to her that this was like the two of them were going on their first date, right before he burst into giggles and hugged her tightly to him. She'd elbowed him in the gut once or twice, trying to push him away out of disgust, but it only seemed to amuse him and make him want to pull her closer. Amara struggled, but when he gave her a warning look on her third attempt, she stopped.

As the car pulled up in front of a warehouse, her thoughts began to frantically alternate between prayers to whichever divinity was listening, and images of Batman. Right now, it was either a Divine Being's intervention, or (most likely) Batman that was going to save her, though it might be a mixture of the two. Either way, she just hoped that someone was going to help her, and soon.

Her stomach dropped to the floor the minute the vehicle stopped and the driver got out, quickly moving to open the passenger door on The Joker's side. Beside her, the Clown Prince of Crime rolled his eyes and shook his head as he lashed a foot out and kicked the goon in the leg.

"Ladies first!" he snarled before slamming the door shut.

The wounded man proceeded to Amara's door, grunting in pain as he did so. He opened her door and held it open, hissing as he tried to bite back his pain. She couldn't help but be happy at this, considering the man had brought her here to be tortured and possibly killed. If she couldn't issue any personal revenge with her own hands, at least he was going to be in pain for a while through his boss's.

"Out you go, _darling_," The Joker instructed, his voice changing from light and chipper to dark and sinister as he spoke the last word.

Following his orders without question, Amara slid out of the car and would have made a run for it, had it not been for the purple-gloved hand on her elbow. He was quick to drag her towards the warehouse's entrance, humming to himself all the while.

The interior was pretty much like the first warehouse she had been in. In fact, it could have been its twin, except for the fact that this one was nowhere near the docks. This place was as far from the waterways of Gotham as you could get, though it still smelled dank and rusty, a universal smell and telltale sign of an abandoned warehouse.

Half-dragged, half-pushed, Amara was forced through rooms of cots, televisions, computers, and weapons to a locked chamber that had to be the personal quarters of her captor. It was another scene of déjà vu, because for the second time in her life, she was once more falling onto a bed covered with purple sheets of both silk and velvet.

"You know, if you wanted a man with money, all you had to do was say so."

Amara barely heard him as she tried to scramble to the other side of the bed. A hand wrapped around her ankle, stopping her movements and hauling her backwards, causing her to shriek in terror.

"Now, now, none of that," he chided, pulling her so that her legs dangled over the side of the bed closest to him.

The Joker then proceeded to flip her over onto her back and pin her to the mattress, his knife glinting in the faint light of the room. Shivering, she looked up at him with wide eyes. She wanted so badly to get out of this, but didn't know if it would be wiser to kick him off of her and run, or to lay still and do whatever he ordered her to.

Flicking her eyes towards the door, Amara immediately knew that running would be a bad idea. There were at least six locks in place, keeping all intruders out and the two of them securely in. Worst of all, there were no large windows, only three small ones that were well out of arm's reach. Even if Batman were use whatever gadgets he had on-hand, there was no way for him to sneak inside and get to her. She was trapped.

The Joker clicked his tongue before running it over his lips. "You see?" he whispered harshly, fluttering his knife-wielding hand towards the windows. "No way for that Bat-freak to get in, and no way for you to get out. Even if you did, my goons out there would just haul you back in here, and then…then, you and I would get to continue our little bonding sessions."

She watched as the knife slowly advanced towards her face, then passed it by, vanishing out of the corner of her eye. Her stomach quivered in fear. At the press of cold steel upon her jaw, that quivering quickly turned into a stone ball, sending her gut diving into the floor. There was a sudden shot of hot pain along the left side of her jaw as the blade cut lightly into her face.

Amara gasped in pain, but did nothing else, holding her breath as she watched The Joker smile down at her. "Now, let's have some _fun_ together, shall we?"

* * *

Satisfied with the situation, The Joker gleefully slammed his mouth atop his captive's, pressing Amara's small frame into the mattress with his weight. Beneath him, she squeaked and tried to struggled, but couldn't; the knife's blade dug into her jaw whenever she moved, and the moment she felt it, the fight seemed to drain out of her. Then she felt his other hand creeping up her thigh and started fighting all over again.

Of course, she was no match for him. The Joker had strength, height, and weight on his side, not to mention the ability to kill someone with just his bare hands. Amara knew that, but it didn't stop her from fighting.

He _loved_ it when they fought back; it always made things more amusing for him.

Glancing at the black lace and red satin of her dress, he remembered how delicious she'd been at that party, wearing this tempting, teasing dress when all the other women wore silver, black, or other boring colors. Of course, she'd worn the gown for that playboy, but The Joker liked to think that it was also for him. She _was_ wearing red, after all, the color she had worn to that other party only a few weeks ago. It was as though she'd been begging for him to reach out and take her all over again. So he did.

Hmm, all of the shifting she was doing was starting to make him want her even more. That was a very bad thing, because what he wanted to do to her was bound to get very loud…and _very_ messy.

* * *

Trapped underneath The Joker's large, heavy frame, Amara began to give up her struggles. Instead, she began to shut her mind down so that she wouldn't have to endure any more than she already had. She couldn't fight him, not when he was armed and so very strong. Even if she did, she would lose.

As his hand slid up her leg and under her dress, inching towards her hip, Amara began to give up hope of rescue. No one knew where she was, and they'd never get to her in time to save her. Closing her eyes, Amara let the tears start to fall…

Just as the outer wall of the room crashed in.

* * *

Using the tracking device he'd secretly slipped around Amara's neck, Batman easily discovered The Joker's new hide out.

Parking the Tumbler a safe distance away from the warehouse, and away from the eyes of The Joker's men, he slipped into the darkness of the night, scoping out the place for ways in and out.

There weren't any. The walls were high, and the windows even higher, which weren't a problem; the _sizes_ of the windows were. They were too small for one person to sneak into, and therefore impossible for two to slip out. He'd have to use a different strategy.

In the end, Batman decided on brute force. Using the Tumbler's X-ray sensors, he was able to see what was going on inside the building. The front section was full of The Joker's goons, all of them milling around like ants, only far less organized. Most were seated, probably gambling or talking. They'd be easy to deal with.

Turning towards the back section, Bruce saw red. There, alone in a room, were two figures, a larger one on top of a smaller struggling one, and he instantly knew who they were.

Without thinking, he slammed his foot down on the accelerator, sending the Tumbler racing through the streets and into the corner walls of the warehouse.

* * *

Amara instantly felt the weight on top of her vanish, though she couldn't see it. The room was filled with dust from the floor and the crumbling walls, making it difficult to see and to breathe. She began to cough as the makeup-caked figure before her scowled and twitched his head in annoyance.

"I'll be right back, gorgeous," he growled. "Don't go anywhere."

Frozen in fear and confusion, she couldn't have moved, even if she wanted to. All Amara could do was lay there and watch as the top of the tank pulled back, revealing the Caped Crusader within. Holding her breath, she watched as Batman seemed to fly through the air, a raised fist aimed straight at The Joker's face even as the crazed criminal lifted a knife in response.

Closing her eyes, Amara ducked and covered her head with her arms, not wanting to watch the violence that ensued.

Unfortunately, she could clearly hear it going on around her. Fists connected with their targets, causing grunts of pain to fill the air. Occasionally, there was the shrill, insane laughter of The Joker, either as he was hit or scored a wound on his opponent. It was terrifying, but Amara didn't cover her ears. She didn't even peek between her fingers, not until she heard Batman gasp in pain and The Joker laugh in triumph.

Tearing her hands from her eyes, she watched in horror as her savior gripped his side, clearly cut by the bloody knife twirling in The Joker's fingers. From what she knew, her kidnapper wouldn't hesitate to kill Batman, and she would never be able to live with herself if that happened.

Looking frantically around the room, she spotted a wooden chair near the bed, two of its heavy legs broken off and lying on the dusty floor. They were thick enough to do some damage, but not to kill, which was perfect; killing wasn't Amara's style.

With his back to her, The Joker couldn't see what she was doing, as he was too focused on Batman. She could hear The Joker taunting his enemy, asking what would happen to Gotham without its hero, and how long it would be before the city was in ruins. With him safely distracted, Amara quietly slid off the bed, her movements silenced by the silk and velvet sheets, and covered by the still-crumbling walls. Even so, she kept a close watch on him, just in case.

As she carefully picked up one of the wooden legs, Amara made sure to make eye-contact with Batman, hefting up the chair leg to show him her idea. He lowered his head, silently indicating his understanding before turning his gaze up towards his adversary, clutching his side.

"What do you want her for?" he demanded. "Ransom?"

The Joker laughed hysterically. "Is that what you think this is about? _Money_? That girl's worth more than the Feds have in the treasury! No, what I've got _planned_ for her is a lot more fun and games."

He waved the blade in front of the other man's face. "Which is more than I can say about you."

Not waiting a second longer, Amara threw herself over the bed, the chair leg firmly in her grasp, and swung.

* * *

Batman's jaw almost dropped when he heard the crack that came from The Joker's skull as Amara's makeshift club made contact with it. A stunned look filled the crazed man's eyes, right before they rolled up inside his head and he fell to the ground, unconscious. When he was sure the clown wasn't going to be getting back up, Batman bent over and turned the knocked out criminal on his back.

With careful fingers, Batman lifted the unconscious man's eyelids and felt around the skull. "I don't think you killed him," he said, turning towards Amara. "But he's badly hurt. I think you've effectively sent him into a coma, if not worse."

She nodded and managed to drop the club. That surprised him, since she'd been holding on to it for dear life. "Can we go now?" she squeaked.

Taking a deep breath, Batman nodded and stood up, biting back a grunt of pain as the slash wound in his side burned like hell. That was fine; it was only a minor graze, since he'd ducked the knife in time. It could have been worse.

But first, he had to take Amara home; everything else was second.

"Let's go," he rumbled, reaching a hand out to her.

As her fingers slid into his, the part of him that was the cool, collected Batman façade stepped back, allowing his feelings to flow through him: joy that Amara was safe, warmth that she had risked herself to save his life, and the sudden need to get her back home and in his arms, where she belonged.

Swallowing, Batman pushed all of those emotions aside and raced to his car, ignoring his pains in order to toss Amara up and into the Tumbler before jumping in beside her.

* * *

In Amara's mind, the entire ride back into Gotham was a blur. The last thing she remembered was being tossed into Batman's tank-like car, and from then on, it was just a swirl of lights and muffled sounds. Her full senses only came back when she heard the sound of an elevator bell in her ears, snapping her back to reality.

Looking around, she saw that both she and Batman were in the elevator leading up to Bruce's penthouse, and almost panicked. There was a camera in this elevator; surely someone would see her and who she was with!

"Don't worry," Batman whispered to her in his gruff voice. "I'm disrupting the signals of the camera's feed. We're perfectly safe."

She nodded and relaxed. It was then that she noticed that Batman's arm was around her waist, supporting her to stand. Turning her head, she smiled her thanks up at him, to which he nodded.

Again the elevator chimed, and when the doors opened, there was Alfred, just as he always was. This time, though, he appeared worried sick, a look that began to fade to relief when he saw who was standing in the elevator.

"Oh, Amara, thank goodness," he said, rushing forward to greet her.

Without hesitating, she threw herself at him, and was thankful that he caught her up in a hug. It almost made her burst into tears, but she held them back, happy to be back amongst people who didn't wear clown makeup and really did care for her.

After a few moments, Amara managed to compose herself and remember something very important.

"Alfred, where's Bruce?" she asked, looking around for him.

The butler cleared his throat. "I'm afraid he's not here right now, Amara."

She immediately suspected the worst. "Is he okay? Is he at the hospital? I mean, I saw The Joker and his men beat at him, but maybe they hurt him worse than I thought they did."

Alfred was quick to assure her that Bruce was fine. "I believe he went to find out if something was being done in trying to find you. I'll call him and tell him to come home."

"But he's okay, right?" Amara pressed, her hands twisting together in a panic. "I have to know that Bruce is alright, Alfred. Did they hurt him badly? Was he bleeding or anything like that? At least tell me if someone called an ambulance and if some of the medics treated him!"

A pair of heavily gloved hands suddenly grasped her shoulders and turned her around, pulling her against an armored chest as strong arms encased her in a hug.

* * *

Bruce knew it was a bad idea, pulling Amara into an embrace while he was dressed as Batman, but he couldn't help himself. In the course of a few hours, she'd been pulled from his arms, put in incredible danger, and risked her own safety for his. Then, as though that weren't enough, she was more worried for _his_ health than her own!

It tore his heart, watching her face go from relief at being home, to panic and worry about how he was doing after The Joker's attack at the party. Alfred tried calming her, but that only seemed to push Amara closer to being hysterical, and Bruce couldn't take that. So, letting his feelings for her take over, he did what any man would do to calm the woman he loved: he hugged her.

* * *

Amara gasped, knowing exactly who had to be hugging her, but unable to wrap her mind around it. Why would Batman, of all people, be hugging her? Not that it was a bad hug, though the body armor was hard and uncomfortable to be pressed against. The arms, however, were careful to hug her just-so, making her feel safe, protected, and…loved?

"I'm so glad you're safe," the Dark Knight whispered into her ear. "You have no idea how worried I was, knowing that you could be hurt and tortured until I could find you."

Her heart seemed to both race and stop beating at once. Why was he saying these things? She barely knew him, and hadn't seen him more than a handful of times. But from the way he was speaking, it was as though Batman had a crush on her, if not something deeper.

The arms holding her slowly loosened as he took a step back. "You should sit down."

He didn't let her protest, and Amara soon found herself being escorted further into the penthouse by Batman, who knelt beside her as she sat in a cushioned chair in the dimly-lit living room. It was strange having Alfred come stand beside her chair, a comforting hand on her shoulder as Batman went to one knee in front of her, his gloved hands gently clasping one of her own. Puzzled, she watched as he reached for a compartment of his belt and pulled out a velvet box.

"I wanted to wait to do this, but I'm afraid if I do, I'll lose you again before I get the chance," he rumbled while offering her the box.

Holding her breath, she reached out a trembling hand and took it. Amara had a sinking feeling that she knew what was inside, and tried to deny it, living in the hope that it was only…well, anything but _that_.

With a harsh swallow, Amara opened the box and almost dropped it. Inside was a ring; the center was an oval-shaped canary yellow diamond with tiny glittering white diamonds surrounding it. From the way it shone in the light of the table lamp, it was flawless, and likely worth a fortune.

She quickly shut the lid and closed her eyes, composing herself. Gotham City's hero and guardian angel was still before her, and she had to answer him. Once her courage had been gathered, Amara opened her eyes and gave him an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "You are a wonderful person, and I do owe you my life, but…I can't. Though I do have a sort of hero-crush on you, I'm in love with someone else."

Raising a hand, Amara touched the ruby pendant Bruce had given her as she slowly got to her feet. "Alfred, I'm going to go clean up. I should be back out before Bruce gets back, but if not, would you tell him I'm here so that he doesn't run off again? I want to see him in person, just so I know he's alright."

Batman had risen to his feet when she did, and with his tall frame, he stopped her from leaving. "Amara, there's something I have to show you," he said in his deep voice.

Then, raising his hands, he reached for his cowl and lifted it off completely, showing her his true face.

Amara fainted.

* * *

Bruce really didn't know how he expected Amara to react, but having her collapse into his arms in a dead faint wasn't it.

"Probably because the shock was too much for her?" Alfred sarcastically suggested, reaching out to try and help. "She has had a rather long night, as it were."

"No, I'll take her," Bruce replied, swinging Amara up into his arms, bridal style. "I'll put her in my room. I want to be there, just in case she wakes up in the night."

"Very good, sir," Alfred replied with a knowing look. "Good night."

"Good night, Alfred."

Left alone, Bruce carried his unconscious love to his bedroom, and laid her gently on his bed. In the dim light of a bedside lamp, he saw it: a long, thin cut along the length of her left jaw. It was shallow and scabbing over, dark with the drying blood.

Hissing in sympathy and anger, Bruce ran for a bottle of antiseptic and a smaller bottle of clear liquid bandage solution. The solution was gently brushed over the cut and the antiseptic, both of which would help it to heal a bit faster.

Nodding in satisfaction, he quickly went into the hidden closet to change, his ears open to the movements in the other room.

In minutes, he was with her again, stretching out on the bed beside her. Amara's breathing was deep and soothing, and as Bruce placed his head on the pillow next to hers, he was drawn into sleep, his arm drifting around her waist to hold her close.

* * *

AN: Another evil-ended chapter. More fun to be had next time! Please review! Thanks!


	22. Out in the Open

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Okay, here it is, the end of this story…sort of. I will be writing the sequel soon, though, and will be posting it in a couple weeks, so keep an eye open for it. Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! You all rock!

**Chapter 22: Out in the Open**:

She awoke to faint sunlight in her eyes and, oddly enough, the smell of ointment in her nose. The ointment smell was annoying, but the sunlight was warm and the mattress she was lying on was soft, so they cancelled each other out.

But there was something else bothering Amara. She could sense that there was another person in the bed, and it frightened her. In her dreams, The Joker had reigned supreme, but there was also the glowing hope in the form of a man in body armor and a pointy-eared cowl. Then the cowl disappeared to reveal Bruce's handsome face and hazel eyes, and that was where her dreams had stopped, fading into a dreamless, but still troubled, sleep.

And yet…and yet, something told her that the presence was there to protect her from harm, and that she was safe with him. It _was_ a 'him' that protected her, too; she could feel that from the way the hand drifted over her hair and along her jaw. His touch was soft, affectionate even, and loving. She liked it.

Then the sudden jolt of pain along the left side of her face sent her into full wakefulness, cutting through her sleepy haze and sending her straight back to reality.

Opening her eyes, Amara found a blurred face hovering over her own. Blinking away the sleep from her eyes, she focused once more on the face and smiled. It was Bruce, and the worried expression he wore was sweet and amusing.

Suddenly, she remembered what had happened the night before, and her left hand flew to her cheek.

"Are you alright?" Bruce whispered, hazel eyes full of concern. "What's wrong?

"I just remembered," she softly whispered back, "The Joker cut me with his knife, and-"

He smiled. "It's alright. I found it last night after I tucked you in. It's been treated."

"Thank you." Amara sighed and smiled up at him. "You know, I had the weirdest dream last night. I dreamt that you were Batman, and that you proposed to me. Isn't that crazy?"

Bruce merely smiled and sat up. "Well, now that you're rested, how about we get you fed? I'll go tell Alfred you're awake, and we'll see what he can bring you to eat in bed."

Amara shook her head. "No, no breakfast-in-bed. I don't want to get crumbs and stuff in the sheets, and don't tell me it doesn't matter, because it does. Alfred shouldn't have to do more laundry just because you won't let me get up."

Not allowing him to protest, she slowly stretched her muscles, threw back the sheets, and put her feet on the floor.

Looking down, Amara saw that she was still in last night's evening gown, and winced. It was rumbled, and would cost a lot for someone to smooth it back out again. Alfred could work miracles, but she doubted he'd be able to save the dress.

'_Not that I __**want**__ to save it_,' she thought, shivering in disgust. She'd have to get Bruce to get rid of it somehow; the last thing she wanted was to be reminded of what had happened the night before.

In the meantime, her mouth was in need of a good brushing, and the shower in her room was calling her, begging to be used.

* * *

After making sure that Amara was comfortably situated in her own rooms, Bruce cleaned himself up and changed into something subtle: pressed black pants, navy-blue button-up shirt, and black leather shoes that spoke class, but didn't make him stand out. That was good, because after breakfast, it wouldn't do for them to attract attention, considering where they were going.

Tucking a small box into his pocket, he headed out to the dining room. Amara was already there, waiting for him at the table, her hair still damp from bathing, and the cut on her jaw already shining with a new coat of clear bandage solution. She gave him a smile as he sat down next to her, his fingers automatically reaching out to gently caress the area near the freshly treated wound.

"It's okay," she said, her smile widening at his touch. "Alfred did it for me, and he was very gentle."

Bruce smiled in return. "Well, he's had plenty of practice," he lightly teased. "I was rather good at getting myself into scrapes as a kid, and he patched up every single one of them."

"Only the ones that didn't require a call for an ambulance," Alfred put in, breezing into the room with a full tray. "Everything else I could handle."

Amara's eyebrows rose. "An ambulance?" she asked, looking over at Bruce. "What did you do that required an ambulance coming out to get you?"

"Never mind," Bruce hurriedly replied while glaring at his butler. "Let's eat."

Bruce ate his breakfast (consisting of omelets, toast, juice and coffee) quickly, almost to the point of inhaling it. Amara gave him a few questioning looks when she saw how fast he was eating, but said nothing. She, herself, ate slowly, and whenever Alfred appeared to refill her glass, she thanked him and praised his culinary skills, making the older man beam with pride.

Finally, both were finished, and after downing the last bit of his coffee, Bruce offered her a hand. "Come on, there's something I want you to see."

Puzzled, she took his hand and followed him out to the car.

* * *

Sitting in the front seat as they wove through traffic, Amara knew that she should have sensed something was different the minute they stepped out of the elevator.

What first unsettled her was that Alfred wasn't going along with them. That in itself wasn't really unusual, since she had gone out alone with Bruce before, but that had been in Hawaii. In terms of safety, Gotham City was vastly different from the tropical paradise, and having Alfred nearby made her feel better.

The second thing bothering her was that Bruce had chosen to drive one of his more casual cars, instead of his usual Lamborghini. Today, even though it was a black Mercedes, and a very high-end one, it didn't stand out on the road, allowing them to blend in wherever they were driving. Lots of people drove this kind of car, so no one would look twice at them as they drove by.

Finally, what was bothering Amara the most was the fact that Bruce refused to tell her where, in fact, they were heading. He avoided her questions, telling her "you'll see," which didn't make her feel any better. It was so frustrating!

Through the dark tinted windows, she watched as buildings, people, cars, and bicyclists flew by. In minutes she was hopelessly lost, becoming even more so when the car turned away from the bustling streets and into the river-side port district. Here, people were few, and cars fewer; they encountered no one they knew or recognized, and Amara grew even more confused when they pulled into a loading dock that appeared to be owned by Wayne Enterprises.

"Bruce, what are we doing way out here?" she asked, taking note of the '_No Trespassing_' sign.

He pulled up beside a huge shipping container and winked at her. "Trust me, you'll know in a minute."

Sighing, Amara waited until Bruce came and opened her door to help her out. Her stomach trembled in nervousness as she followed him into, of all places, the shipping container and shut the door behind them, leaving them in complete darkness. Amara gasped in fright, but a hand on her arm kept her from running back outside.

"Shh," Bruce whispered. "Just wait."

Amara gasped as the floor shook, then began to move. Not side-to-side, but rather straight down! How was that possible? For them to be going down, they would have to be going underground…

Beside her, Bruce released her arm and instead wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. The darkness gave way to bright white light, and when her eyes adjusted, Amara found herself looking at a vast chamber. White florescent lights were in the entirely of the ceiling, filling the large space with brilliant white light. The floor looked to be heavy cement, and there appeared to be closed doorways along the left walls. Amara was puzzled; the place was completely empty.

The platform lift they were on jerked to a halt as it settled into the ground. With Bruce hanging on to her, Amara's stance was steady, which was a good thing, considering the platform had nothing to hold onto.

"Come on," he said, gently guiding her onto the cement floor.

They walked through two-thirds of the room before coming to a halt in front of a large square cut into the floor. If Bruce hadn't stopped her, Amara would have simply walked right over it, completely unaware that it was even there. Turning her head, she gave him a puzzled look as she heard him exhale.

He gave her a smile and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, handheld device that fit perfectly into his palm. Bruce held up the device and nodded at the square in the ground.

"Watch," he said, pushing the button.

She jumped at the sound of pressured air being released, and gasped when the square rose up, revealing the last thing she expected to see.

It was Batman's body armor, cowl, and cape, the eyeholes staring emptily at her from a case of metal and clear plastic.

"Oh, my, God," she whispered, one hand clasping over her mouth. Bruce reached up and gently pulled her arm down. "So…I didn't dream that you were Batman?"

Then it really hit her. "Oh, my, God, you're Batman!" Amara half gasped, half squealed as she whirled to look at him.

Her brain began to explode in firework display of thoughts and images. Bruce Wayne was Batman. The man she had fallen in love with was the Caped Crusader, the hero of Gotham, and the man who had saved her life twice from The Joker.

Upon thinking of the crazed criminal, one of her hands lifted to touch the mark on her jaw. That same instant, Bruce inhaled sharply, reaching out to take her raised hand into one of his while the other gently clasped her chin and slowly tilted her head to the side so that he could look.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, caressing the wound with his thumb.

Amara gazed at him in puzzlement. "For what?" she asked, looking up at him.

Bruce's hand drifted from her jaw up to her hair, fingers caressing the strands as his eyes filled with sorrow. "For not getting there sooner," he softly answered.

She smiled and took both of his hands in her own. "It wasn't your fault. I know I can think of a dozen things to try and ease your conscience, but what you need to know is that you can't control or predict the actions of a madman. You also aren't fast as a speeding bullet, like that Superman person in Metropolis, so don't blame yourself."

One of her hands reached up and caressed his face. "All you have to know is that I still love you, and I don't blame you in the least."

He exhaled heavily and dropped her hands in order to pull her into a tight embrace. Amara smiled as she pressed her cheek to his.

* * *

Bruce's strong arms held her close, his breath in her ear as he slowly calmed down his racing heart.

He'd been terrified of what her reaction would be, his mind blazing with the different ways Amara could have responded to his secret. The worst case scenario was her slapping him and saying that she never wanted to see him again, a scenario that would have broken his heart.

And yet, in spite of all his doubts, the best and brightest scene was taking place. Amara not only accepted who he was, she loved him still and had forgiven him for not saving her sooner. Though the guilt he held would never really go away, Amara's love and faith in him would lessen it over time.

But did she even want to stay with him? Yes, she said she still loved him, but then, Rachel had said the same thing nearly two years ago, claiming that once he'd given up being Batman, they could be together. She'd waited for him for a while, but then moved on to Harvey Dent. Would the same thing happen again with Amara? If it did, Bruce didn't think he could bear it.

Reluctantly pulling back from her embrace, he looked into her brown eyes. Those gorgeous doe eyes would never lie to him, no matter what words flowed out of her mouth. In them, he saw love and understanding, but he had to know…

"Amara," he whispered, "do you remember what I asked you last night, before you fainted?"

Her eyes went blank for a moment as she tried to remember, then cleared to show a mixture of hope and surprise. "Oh, yes," she whispered, blushing furiously. "But I didn't know if you…meant it or not."

Bruce smiled and pulled out the small jewelry box that he'd put in his pocket earlier that morning. "Well, believe me when I say that I meant every word of it," he replied, flipping the box open.

* * *

Amara tentatively reached for the ring, her quivering fingers removing it from the box and holding it up in the light of the room. Her eyes caught the flashes of brilliant light reflected inside the perfect yellow diamond, as well as the little white ones that surrounded it.

"Amara," Bruce whispered, "will you marry me?"

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Yes," she softly replied. "Yes, Bruce, I will."

She watched him carefully take the ring from her fingers and raise her left hand. Tears swelled in her eyes as he carefully slid it into place, then kissed her hand tenderly once it rested in its spot.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Sniffling lightly, Amara blinked away her happy tears and looked at him. "For what?"

Bruce smiled and bent to press a kiss to her hand again. "For accepting me and what I do. I never thought that I'd find someone like that, someone who would support me in my efforts."

Amara wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him gently on the lips. "You are the best thing to happen to this city, and to me. How could anyone _not_ support that?"

Those wonderful arms of his wrapped around her waist to rest his hands comfortably in the small of her back. "There might be times where I'll be seriously hurt, or worse. Would you be happy with me then?"

She grinned. "No, because I'd be tempted to scold and yell at you for being so easy to beat up." Pressing a kiss to his nose, she giggled. "But I'd be happy to take care of your wounds for you when you get home."

Grinning broadly, Bruce grabbed her hand and dragged her to one of the storage rooms. "Come on, there's more that I want you to see."

* * *

For several hours, Bruce showed her his arsenal of weapons, gadgets, and other tools that he used while he was out as Batman. Amara found most of them fascinating, though she especially liked his cape, which could be used to glide around the city, if needed. She thought it fantastic to be able to fly like that, and hinted that she wanted one as well. Bruce, however, silently vowed that was not going to happen. Not in a million years.

"But what about your car?" Amara suddenly asked, looking around.

"It's stored in another part of the building, behind closed doors when I'm not using it," he explained.

"How'd it get here?" she questioned, glancing at the suit. "And how'd your suit get here, if you were with me last night?"

"I programmed the car to return here once we were safely in the penthouse," he explained. "The suit I had Alfred bring over last night, while you and I were asleep."

Her mouth opened in an 'o.' "Well, I guess Alfred is much more than just a butler. Is he your medic, too?"

She'd spotted the medical tools that lay on a tray covered with a square plastic cover. They were always new, sterile and ready for use, just in case. A worried glint came into her eyes, and a frown pulled at the corners of her mouth.

Bruce stood closer to her. "That's what you'll have to deal with if you stay with me. I do get hurt, and there is the chance that I'll be killed when I'm out protecting the city. Would you be able to live with that?"

There was a soft sigh before she turned to look at him. "I know that," she answered softly. "It will be like being married to a firefighter, a police officer, or a soldier: always worrying about how you're doing and if you'll be coming home." Her mouth turned upwards into a soft smile. "But what you do is just as noble and great, and I'll be here or at home, waiting for you to come back. And I don't believe for one second that you will be killed. You're just that good."

Grinning, he bent forward and kissed her.

* * *

Sadly, their kiss didn't last long. Alfred had chosen that moment to check up on them, and was relieved when Bruce told him that he and Amara were getting married.

"Finally," was what Amara heard from their side of the phone.

When the call ended, her fiancé made a face at her. "Alfred wants us home for a celebratory lunch," he stated. "Preferably as soon as possible."

Amara sighed and rolled her eyes, but agreed. She watched Bruce tuck away all of his neat Batman gear and smiled. '_I can't believe I'm going to marry him_,' she thought in wonder. What had she done to deserve such a great man?

"Come on," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist as he pulled out that strange hand-held device again. "The sooner we get back, the sooner we can have some quiet time together."

She grinned. "You know, I have to tell you something." He looked at her as they got onto the platform lift. "I've got to say that I'm really glad that you are Batman, because I was beginning to develop a crush on the guy."

Bruce gave her a strange look as the platform began to rise. "Let me guess, it was the mask."

She burst out laughing. "Well, there was that, but it was also the whole dark, mysterious air you've got while you're in that suit."

Peering up at him from under her lashes, she smiled as they rose up into the darkness of the shipping container. "Maybe you can wear the mask on the honeymoon?"

All around them, the metallic space rang with Bruce's laughter, just as the platform rose into place with a clang.

* * *

AN: Well, there it is, the end of the story! The sequel will probably be up in a couple weeks, so keep an eye out for it! Thanks so much to everyone for reading and/or reviewing –you all rock!

See you in a couple weeks with the sequel!


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